Lament of the Niphredils
by Spirit Anduril
Summary: How can a mortal fall in love with an immortal? Would such a stand against race and age be accepted and allowed... if the mortal is a girl born to murder and destroy, and the immortal is a Prince of Mirkwood? LegolasOC... conventional... and yet not so. :
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

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**Disclaimer: **I didn't have anything to do with the LotR book and movie. Tolkien is the genius behind that, and Peter Jackson an interpreter. 

**Note: **This is going to be the only author's note on this so I'll cover everything. This is not going to be a Mary Sue, though romance does come into the story quite a bit. Follows a mixture of events of the book and movie and some of my own ideas of plot since this is fan fiction, thus giving me the power to do my will. Sorry about spelling and/or grammar errors, sometimes I tend to miss them (too lazy sometimes) but I'll do my best.

Reviews and Constructive Criticism are savoured but please do not flame, you read this of your own free will; you don't have to read this story so don't criticise it, you should just worry about your own, get the hint?

By the way, this is not a Glorfindel story (unfortunately for he is a cool character) and he does not care for the main character in an intimate way. Just strong friendship.

Lastly, just to those who don't know, in the book the fellowship was in Rivendell for a month before they set off on the journey, and that's when most events will happen.

Enjoy.

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Gandalf was on one of his trips to Mirkwood.

It was a beautiful night full of elvan music and song that made ones heart swell in happiness. 

After the feast and the dancing began, Gandalf was led into the circle of the young children of Mirkwood who desired a tale. Gandalf only smiled, and was happy to abide by the children's wishes. The children wanted a sad story. 

"Once upon a time, there was a Lord and Lady"-

"Where they elves?" A little girl sitting just in front of Gandalf asked, her golden locks shinning around her shoulders and blue eyes twinkling. She was going to be a breath-taking adult, but still her body and youthful face looked like one of a mortal five-year-old.

Gandalf smiled, elder and adult elves began to move around the circle, also listening and enlightened at the children's enthusiasm towards the wizard's story.

"No," said Gandalf, as if it were something grand and unheard of. "They were humans, and very noble people."

"Is this going to be a scary story, Gandalf?" Gandalf looked amongst the older youths, seeing Legolas Greenleaf, his arms crossed and his face bright with a playful smile on his lips. He was one of the few male youths unaccompanied by a maiden friend. 

Gandalf looked down in thought. "Very much so, Thanduilion."

"Then continue!" Legolas beamed, happy from his couple cups of ale.

Gandalf did so, and turned his happy gaze back to the children's widened and excited eyes. "Well, where was I before that little interruption," he teased, and the listeners giggled, including Legolas for he was a sort that could take a jest with a smile, "Oh, yes! The Lady was a lovely bride, and the Lord a handsome man-one that could make even your mothers blush!" The maidens giggled, "Yet they were very young, in human terms, for marriage-but love is a fickle thing that you beautiful children will one day find out yourselves! Well, one day, the Lady and her escorts were travelling to Lothlorien"-

"Why wasn't the Lord with her?" The same little girl asked.

Gandalf's eyebrows rose. "I don't know, child." He answered. "But, anyway, the maiden was on her way. When suddenly"-two fire rockets shoot up from behind Gandalf's back and screamed like thunder, giving the children frights and making the adults laugh from the humorous reaction from the children, and also that it had given the adults a small shock also, "Orcs came to do some awful bidding, and they sent away the Lady's escorts, but _kept_ the maiden."

The little girl's eyes were wide. "What happened to her?" She asked.

Gandalf looked up to the sky, seeing the rockets explode into a bomb of reds and purples and as the sparkles fell, it seemed as if they joined and changed the sky into a window as if he was looking through it and that showed his tale as he spoke. 

"The Lady was taken as a slave, but the thought of her beloved husband made the pain seem unimportant compared to the child growing in her stomach. But magic was a dangerous weapon, for when the dark forces behind the orcs found out about the Lady's child once the cycle of childbirth came, they created a horrible spell"-

Laughter was no longer, only silence as everyone listened to Gandalf's story.

"What did the spell do, Gandalf?" Asked a young elf.

Gandalf coughed. "The spell was placed on the child, and was a horrible one indeed. The dark 'power' wanted the child to stay with him in the night, so he worked a spell that made the child unable to feel the sunshine. The Sorcerer cursed the child's skin so if the sun was ever to shine on it, then it would burn. The Sorcerer was to take the child as an apprentice, but in the dead of the night, the Lady stole her child from the Sorcerer's chamber and escaped. But the Lady had suffered a cruel, fatal injury and was exhausted from the childbirth, and was slowly dying. But, as she began to fear that she would not be able to save her child, a small group of travellers passed by and they picked up the struggling woman and baby. The Lady recognised a dear friend amongst the travellers and with her last words, she told her friend of what curse had come upon her baby, and the friend believed every word and as the Lady closed her eyes, the friend vowed to keep the child under her protection and love."

The girl frowned. "Is that a true story?"

Gandalf chuckled and stared into a fire on a torch. "Of course not."


	2. Chapter one: The Loneliness River

**Chapter one: The Loneliness River**

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**_Seven years after…_**

  
  
Gilraen was growing old. Though her thoughts were full of youth, her days were coming and going less smoothly then they used to. She was staying, at this moment, with her good friend in the heaven-like Rivendell where her 'children' were both raised. She loved it there, and yet her heart ached when she slept beneath the silver rooves of the Lord Elrond. She did not belong there. 

Though, she cared not. She had a great son who could bring her pride in a simple smile, and she had a daughter— though she was not of her blood— but Gilraen held her just as dear. The girl was half the age of Gilraen's son, and Gilraen was relieved at least that if she were to fled from the word, that her Estel would protect his sister from harm and would be the right age and have enough maturity to do so well. 

Gilraen did admit that her son had led the girl into the world, as Gilraen tried her best to keep her from it. It was she who had shown the girl the path to grow up, but it was her son who walked her through it, which showed in the girl taking on many of Aragorn's mannerisms, many for a woman was not ideal, such as an adventurous spirit. 

Travelling under the right conditions and correct clothing was fine for Niphrediel, though no one ever noticed. But she _had _to stay away indoors at sunrise, for that was the only time that no material would be strong enough to keep her skin safe. It was a sad fact, but Niphrediel knew no other way. Keeping the truth hidden was simple, people believed not in silly superstitious stories. Gilraen wished not for Niphrediel to go outside, for danger for the girl was everywhere, but she could not hold her back and Aragorn promised he would keep Niphrediel's skin out of the sun every time. Gilraen abided by that with only distaste, and she and Aragorn spoke not to each other for seven entire months once when Gilraen found out he was teaching Niphrediel the art of combat. 

_Oh what would Niphrediel's mother think of me, _Gilraen would often wonder. Niphrediel knew not that she was a child borne to another, only Gilraen, Elrond, Galadriel and the lord Glorfindel and, of course, her nurse and handmaiden knew the truth—and all were sworn to secrecy. Gilraen would often imagine if she had done the right thing by not telling Niphrediel the truth. Was that what her true mother would have wanted? Not even Aragorn knew, and Gilraen knew his reaction would be the worst. 

Looking at Niphrediel at times, Gilraen regretted that she had not raised her to be a proper lady. Or a lady at all. Though, Aragorn was a grand man, and if Niphrediel was the first result of his guidance then he was to be a splendid father— especially to a son. Gilraen suspected Arwen would be there to settle those imperfections of Aragorn's with a girl-child though. She would never say so though. 

Gilraen looked through the window at the waning moon. The night was Niphrediel's day, and the moon was her sun. 

"Oh, my children," she whispered, to no one in particular, as she laid her pale head down on her pillow. She turned around and cuddled up to the young girl that napped against her breast, and began to stroke her hair. The finest strands of raven-dark silk. Her child. Her baby. Her Niphrediel. Gilraen lowered her chin and kissed the crown of her head with her wrinkled, thin lips and let out a long sigh. "I love you." 

Two years later, Gilraen died. 

_Eleven years later..._

Niphrediel casually sat on the bridge overlooking the garden and waterfalls surrounding the silver crystal-town, one of her arms hung on the tip of a bent knee. Her other leg dangled freely over the edge— taunting the water bellow, flowing through from the waterfall. 

Though Niphrediel and Aragorn were not blood, there was a certain likeliness about them. Their eyes were the same shade of sparkling mix of blue and grey. But it was not just that, their faces held similar striking and dark features. Their hair was dark with the same ammount of waviness upon each head. It was almost odd. If they stood side-by-side one would not think them brother and sister. Rather, they would think father and daughter. Neither of them minded. 

She was not a beautiful girl, but her race was one where beautiful women were no rare jewels. Perhaps, one day, she would be so lovely. Her face was an adequate shape and size; oval-shaped with noble cheekbones (typical of the Gondorian and Arnorian women) and her prominent jaw mounted a full mouth. She had great promise... though, ladies who had been far prettier than her had turned into frizzy-haired big-nosed witches during womanhood! It all depended on the kindness of Fate. 

Height swung in her favour. She was as tall as a woman of her kind would be, and yet she lacked the curves of a full-grown woman. She was lithe and long; truly, a little bit of plumpness would not have hurt. But she looked healthy. Her dull hair fell down freely with bangs hanging beside her cheeks. From never having been kissed with a ray of sunshine, Niphrediel's skin was a weak pale that made one think she was long deceased if they found her sleeping. It was sickening. Disgusting even, under the most unfortunate lighting. 

"When you and Arwen wed, what will become of me?" She refused to turn to Aragorn not too far beside her. Deep inside, she knew, and the answer was something she did not desire. Regardless that it was going to happen, she wanted to hear him make a promise he would not keep. Simply, so that she could pretend to herself. Prolong her inevitable desertion. 

There was a strong silence, then. "What do you mean?" 

"Will you leave me?" 

What answered her, was laughter. She could not tell if he was mocking her, or simply found the idea a thing of foolishness. He probably was laughing _at_ her— shaking his head at her, calling her an idiot for asking such a thing of him. _'As if'_, she imagined him thinking as he rolled his eyes at her immature insecurities. She could not compete with the love of his life. She did not compare. 

Niphrediel frowned. "What humour do you find in the thought in leaving me here?" 

Aragorn answered, "It is the thought that you think I would that humours me. You and I are both the next of Isildir's line and so our heritage, both good and bad, shall bind us together forever! I am heir and you are my sister. It is worrying to imagine 'Niphrediel the Woman', asking for her own home away from her old brother. You will have to stay with Arwen and I for always!" 

Niphrediel cringed. Though she did not dislike Arwen, it was indeed strange to imagine having to share her brother with someone.. Strange and very awkward. Niphrediel would not enjoy being a third wheel, though many times over her brother assured her she would not be. Aragorn was different when he was around Arwen, as if the world revolved around her and her beauty and ability to love. 

Niphrediel only snorted. "I need your permission to be independent?" _Yes._

Aragorn simply nodded, "When I know that you can take care of yourself and trouble will keep away from you, then I will allow you to stray, if not then I shall follow you ere time passes fast." 

Niphrediel laughed at the thought. After silence came, she thought quietly: "Is your hobbit healing well?" 

Aragorn nodded. "His first day of rest. The wound will haunt him forever, though Frodo will be strong. My, it was lucky Glorfindel came at the time he did." 

"I would have gone, but Glorfindel did not allow me," Niphrediel told him. 

Aragorn obviously agreed with his dear friend. "I would have scorned you if you had jumped off the horse instead of Glorfindel, for you should not have thought to have come to search for us! Glorfindel knew that," he changed the subject before Niphrediel became angry: "There are orcs dangerously close, did you know that?" 

Niphrediel nodded. "I did. Lord Elrond asked me to petrol tomorrow if I had the chance. I think he grew tired of my bickering about never being allowed to do anything or go anywhere," Niphrediel smled wide, extremely proud. 

Aragorn was surprised. "No one asked me about this!" he exclaimed. 

Niphrediel groaned. "It does not matter! I will not stray, or pick fights, or ride too far away from the House." 

Aragorn frowned. "It is not orcs that I worry will bring you harm." 

"You know I will be wearing my hood," she whinged. 

Aragorn shook his head. "Tis not that, for I know you will, but there are riders out there that a more dangerous than orcs. More deadly than the sun when it peers upon your skin." 

Niphrediel frowned. "Riders?" 

Aragorn nodded. "The Nazgul, dressed in cloaks and on vast horses. They are travellers of great speed. Glorfindel had much struggle riding away from them and though the Bruinen swept them away, I do not think being cautious of them would be wrong. I have told you of them, the Nine... haven't I?" 

Niphrediel held her intrigue away. _The Nazgul? Here? A challenge._

Aragorn caught her faraway gaze. "Promise me you shall not seek them out!" he ordered, firmly. 

Niphrediel nodded, and gnawed on the inside of her cheek to keep a straight expression. She fought with the need to laugh outright at him, keeping her eyes calm and mouth unmoving. Her brows were furrowed, yet not overly so— her visage was that of an honest, serious young woman."I promise." _I lie!_

Aragorn shook his head. "No . . .Glorfindel will go with you." 

Niphrediel took a deep breath and felt like she was going to scream. She turned her head, and her eye caught sight of something in the distance, watching. She clenched her jaw, and closed her eyes as she turned her face away, in anger and frustration. "She is waiting for you." 

She heard Estel turn and sigh deeply. 

Niphrediel opened her eyes, and they were glistening with angry tears. 

Niphrediel came second. Arwen . . . . .she came first. The most painful thing was that there was no one she could blame. It was no one's fault; no one was in the wrong. It was the natural course of action. Niphrediel's eyes watered, and she turned her head away so Estel would not be able to see her face, and she also did it out of frustration. She did not want to watch him leave. She was angry to be acting like such a weakling— oh, how she wished she had been born a man! A strong, brave and entirely independent one. 

Estel knew she was upset, but there was nothing he could do. Except lie. And he could not force himself to do so. 

Niphrediel felt his hand fall upon her shoulder, yet she received no comfort form it. His lips grazed the crown of her head, yet she shrugged off his motion of affection with her teeth clenching her tongue. Niphrediel did not respond to his love. She continued to stare into the darkness and felt Estel hesitate for a moment, before leaving. She tried to be as strong as she could, but as soon as she knew she was entirely alone, her aloof appearance shred away, and she was a little girl again. 

She hugged herself tightly, like an orphan, and stared below to the watery bottom as she began to cry. 

Naturally, she did not hear the sound of footsteps, but she knew they were coming and she felt the person sit down even though her head was turned the other way. 

She sat there for a while her face cold as tears began to run down her cheeks. She sobbed, like a child... for, indeed, that is what she was. An child too developed in body. When an arm came around her, Niphrediel allowed her head to fall sideways onto a comforting shoulder. 

"I love you, Glorfindel," she whispered to her the elf beside her, the one she considered her very best friend. 

Glorfindel held her, comforting her like an elder brother, almost. For such a long-lived elf, he was one of the few within Elrond's home who had the stamina to put up with Niphrediel's desire to play and do things. He loved her dearly and, sadly, he was one of the only people within dwindling Middle Earth who knew the truth of the girl's parentage. It was a secret that was extremely hard for him to keep. 

The girl was convinced she was losing her brother. Perhaps he would keep to his promise, and would never leave her... but she would become an annoyance. When he eventually wants to make his own family, he will still have the responsibility of looking after her. What a bother. Niphrediel knew he would not turn his back on her, but she did not want to be... such a burden. 

Glorfindel sat there with her and allowed her to cry. He would have to speak with Estel, just to let him understand why Niphrediel had been acting differently around him these past few days. 

Niphrediel's eyes fluttered open. 

Her room had windows, beautiful and large with silver carvings around the edges... but they were covered lovely silver shutters that caged out the sunlight. 

The room was serene, with statuesque silver columns holding up the high roof. Candles were lit everywhere on ornate candlebras, attached to the sides of the walls, and finely-crafted furniture was put here and there to make it seem less unoccupied. A big fireplace was put against one wall, opposite the bed and a grand painting of a sunrise was put above the mantle piece. Bookshelfs were put on selected walls, littered with volumes of every genre, and a large, anique vanity table with a comfortable stool was place strategically near the matching wardrobe. Curtained doors on the left wall led to a private balcony that Niphrediel and Estel's chambers shared, and overlooked the courtyard. 

Niphrediel's bed was the grandest thing in the room. The bed itself was large with white blankets and a line of beautiful pillows and cushions... but the thing that made the bed beautiful was the canopy. It was not a normal one; at the head of the bed was a magnificent silver statue of a beautiful lady, Niphediel assumed it to be the fair Varda, standing straight like the goddess she was, with her arms gracefully lifted up and spanned. Her hands held on to an entwining forest of roots, like a rope made out of silver. They went straight to the posts on the other side, that was shaped like the leaning trunk of a tree. There were even carved birds and flowers ton the silver vines. Satin curtains were hung and tied back to the posts, but the drapes could be let out and conceal the bed if wished for. 

Niphrediel stepped out of her bed, dressed in her white night gown and her hair falling about her shoulders and down her back in a reasonable mess. She walked over to the door and left the room. All windows on that floor of the house were closed, at least during the day, and Niphrediel made her way casually to her bathroom chambers and washed herself, getting ready for the long day. 

She quickly changed after drying herself. She could not remember the last time she wore a gown . . . . . The thought bothered her. The suit was a rich rustic brown made of velvet mostly, with long leggings and a snug tunic. It had faintly flared sleeves, a stiff, arched collar that came up and curved at her jaw, and a short train that split in two, falling down to the back of her thighs. 

Most of her suits were the same as that one, only in different colours. They were the only ones that were made for her, since her mother had encouraged her to wear gowns so she did not have much of a selection. She did not bother obtaining any more items of clothing than she needed. 

Niphrediel struggled to put on her the tough, leather boots and her tough, possum-skin gloves, but she got through it with no more than a hiss. She put a belt around her hips and hooked her elegant dagger into it. She did the best she could do with her hair, tying enough back to keep the rest away from her face, and grabbed her cloak. 

She could not go anywhere during the daylight without a cloak, and a scarf around her mouth and nose since sometimes the hood did not shade those areas. It was black and made from satin, with a large hood and flared sleeves. A gold buckle at her chest held it together, as it tidily fell down to reach the back of Niphrediel's knees so she wouldn't trip on it since if it _were_ any longer, she would, no doubt, trip constantly! 

Niphrediel was in a rather good mood that day. She grabbed her scarf and walked out the door, not yet deciding to put it on. 

_October 21st. A good date_, she thought, and began to make her way to Glorfindel's chambers. He was going with her, of course. 

She was going to get those riders, whether she was with Glorfindel or not. It would be another story to tell her grandchildren! Niphrediel laughed. As if she would have any... No man would ever give up the sun for her. Good dear, if Niphrediel could have it, she would not give it up for someone! 

Niphrediel did not even have to knock on the door. Glorfindel walked out just as she neared his door, and smiled at her joyfully in greetings. 

He was by far the fairest elf one could ever see. Shinning golden hair, lovely flawless skin, bright blue eyes and the most beautiful smile someone's eyes could ever see. And, what people did not realise upon looking on him; he owned the grandest, most alluring voice. It could make a person weep. 

Glorfindel, dressed ready for riding, and Niphrediel began to make their way down. The girl quickly wrapped the scarf around her mouth and pulled the hood up just before they walked into the late morning sunlight... a danger that lurked only a mere stair downward. 

Glorfindel and Niphrediel quickly made their way to the stables, taking a couple things from the armoury before saddling their horses. 

With every weakness comes a strength, it must be mentioned. For since Niphrediel could see much more clearly at night, her eyesight had a large advantage in sunlight. Though she was no threat to the eyes of an elf, Niphrediel was very gifted in terms of a mortal's capabilities. 

Niphrediel took a longbow, and two swords, sheathing one against her belt and the other tied to the knee of the saddle just in case. 

Aragorn had taught Niphrediel all-too well about fighting. Like him, her strength was with the grasp of a sword rather than a bow... but she could still use a bow well enough for her liking. Niphrediel's training was not was not something she had spoken of to her mother when she was alive was alive, however. But Gilraen was a smart woman... she knew those bruises did not come from tripping over a rock! She knew those two scars were not bites from an insane rabbit! 

Niphrediel climbed onto the back of Draconic's saddle and sighed as she and Glorfindel, armed with a bow and sword, atop of Asfalof, began to ride out at a slow pace, both with their arms limp at their sides. Using the reigns was not entirely necessary at such a slow pace. 

Niphrediel could barely feel the breeze, but she could imagine. Oh, how she wished she could lift her head into the sun and feel the wind blow against her cheeks. The wind she could have, at times, but the sun? No. 

Niphrediel put one hand on to grip the reigns while the other held onto the hilt of the sword at her knee, ready for any movement, as Glorfindel, who rode in front of her, began to pick up pace. There was no threat so close to the house, but Niphrediel liked to imagine a beast might just jump out at any moment. It made everything fun. 

The hood never came down, it was designed that way, but Niphrediel could see in front of her clearly enough. 

Glorfindel had packed a lunch, and they rode around the borders all day. They found nothing. 

They eventually settled down for lunch under the shade and darkness of a willow tree. It had thick branches that came over the land that guarded its roots, like the curved shape of a flower, and its long vines and leaves kept the sun out, if one moved passed and sat on the grass on the other side. Though some sunbeams sneaked in, it was enough for Niphrediel to be able to take down her hood and scarf to eat. The tree had been around for a long time, and had been used for times like these plenty throughout the years. 

Niphrediel had to admit she was disappointed, as she shoved her mouth around a piece of bread. It did not matter all that much though, it was fun enougn being out with Glorfindel in the fresh air. Usually, they would be playing pranks on each other and joking around as much as they could before heading back to Elrond's House. Strangely, they had done nothing of the sort! At least, not yet.... 

Niphrediel and Glorfindel conversed over lunch, and laughed at each other every now and then at something silly. Niphrediel knew what came next, for every outing was all a routine. Niphrediel's face dropped when Glorfindel said he could hear Aragorn's voice in a close distance coming in their direction not to far away. He was about five minutes away. 

She bit her lip, quickly wrapping on her scarf and putting on her hood, as Glorfindel attached his sack back onto the saddle of Asfalof. 

She knew what he was going to do and say before he did either one of them. 

"I shall quickly refill my flask in the spring!" he yelled, before beginning to walk to the spring, not even looking back to see her prepared to leave. 

Niphrediel knew he moved quickly, so she had to move quicker! She did not want to leave him behind, but if she had a head start, he would have trouble catching up. She had done it before; it was a guaranteed victory. 

She smiled. It was a fun game. 

Niphrediel sprinted for her horse, and vaulted onto the saddle. The manoeuvre had been practised. The last time she attempted to perform it, she did not push off the ground strongly enough and bumped into Draconic's behind, but this time, she only tipped to the side for a couple seconds after landing on the saddle with a thud. Then, she took off! 

She headed in the direction she and Glorfindel had been going before making their little stop, encouraging Draconic to run as fast as he could with firm taps of her heels. She smiled, but not for too long, for it even something small like that was putting strain on her ability to concentrate on riding and keeping her balance. She was not the world's greatest or sturdiest rider, but she was undoubtedly the most insane; judging from the speed she made her horse run. 

Niphrediel slowed down at the edge of a small canyon. It was old, and was sometimes used to get through the back of Rivendell by invaders, though they never got through the gates. 

It was about a twenty-foot straight drop into the green canyon with beautiful willow trees around the edges. Niphrediel prepared to go around it, until she heard neighs and buckles of horses. 

Niphrediel's eyes widened, and she quickly got off the horse and crept to the edge. 

They were the dangerous cloaked riders. Not really what she expected. She expected them to be big with black cloaks and horses, and metal gauntlets for hands and shadowed faces. These riders had one from the three expectations: and that was... shadowed faces. 

Niphrediel slowly strung her bow. She aimed. The riders were going at a slow tread, but she could not get a positive aim because her hands were shaking in fear. Her first kill! How frightening. 

She had to go closer. Her aim was not exact, and there were trees in the way. Niphrediel took a deep breath. _Do not be afraid. Protect your home!_

If she did not get them at that moment, Glorfindel and Aragorn would arrive and the riders could already be in the city. They would have to get through the gates... but if they were as feisty as Aragorn explained, then they very well would. 

Niphrediel was afraid, but she had to! She hung her bow against her shoulder so both her arms were free. 

She waited for her chance as a rider positioned himself just below her. Niphrediel took a chance, taking a shaky deep breath, and fell straight down. 

She positioned her body correctly. On her way down, she grabbed him! Like a snake, or at least her impersonation of one, she spun her body around so that she would not face a landing too harsh for her back. As she met with the ground, she let the soft cloth of the rider's clothes pass from her fingers, and rolled a couple. Adrenaline surged through her veins, and her knees did not even feel the slightest bit of strain when she rolled onto her feet. She felt like a warrior! 

Unfortunately, the rider did exactly the same thing. So, in unison, they fixed their eyes on each other and saw, scarily, that they both had their bows strung and ready to fire. 

Niphrediel gasped loudly, blinking many times. He was an elf! Evil elves? Niphrediel's heart grew cold. Elves were turning against their own? What?! 

Niphrediel looked at the enemy with disgust, though the shadow of her hood hid it well, but the other's features showed it properly as they slowly circled each other like lions. 

The elf held his bow with dangerous precise and expertise. Niphrediel did not hold hers so well, but the arrow would still hit if she let it go. It was all that mattered. 

The elf looked passed Niphrediel at all the others that accompanied him. "Put down your bows!" he told them. 

Niphrediel was surprised they did what he asked, even the ones that were very reluctant to. Oh terrific, Niphrediel had jumped on the leader. 

It was too late now. 

The elf glared with composed ferociousness. Niphrediel's heart beat loudly... it was obvious this elf was not afraid of dying. "Come, black brute," he said, "your hide will be dust. Bows will not be our instruments of battle today." He dropped his bow and looked at the sword sheathed at Niphrediel's side and nodded to a kinsman, who threw one to him. 

Niphrediel was relieved, in a way. If she was going to fight and die defending herself with any weapon, she was thankful it would be a sword. She knew more of handling a sword than any other... 

But the elf looked even more skilled with the weapon than she was. 

Niphrediel had to attack fast, catch him off guard. She did not give any warning, before dropping the bow and spinning around quickly, unsheathing her sword straight away. When she returned around to face him, she lashed out! 

It startled him for a moment, but he blocked his neck that would have been severed if he had not, and calmly began to dual with her. 

Niphrediel did everything Aragorn had taught her, but he kept on blocking! She attacked his middle, his head, his legs, his arms... but every time she hit outward with her sword, she was met with the clash of metal. He was better than she was. She had to _do _something! 

As he parried an attack to his shoulder, Niphrediel spun around and punched him in the jaw. It was a ruthless hit; it made him stagger backward, and it made her knuckles scream in pain, but it gave Niphrediel a confidence boost. Perhaps she could win! 

The elf did, indeed, stagger backward, but in the flash of an eye, he was standing straight and seemingly unruffled. The only change were his eyes; a devilish blue that seemed suddenly all the more intense in its hatred. Niphrediel felt a chill run down her spine as she looked upon these eyes, and her gut suddenly twisted. 

All of the sudden, fighting with this fellow felt unnatural. But she had to! 

She got ready to lash out again, before she heard-- 

**-"NO!"**

Aragorn! 

Niphrediel automatically turned her head to see Aragorn and Glorfindel jumping off their horses, far above her on the cliff. She knew they were coming to help her, and, by goodness, she needed it. Niphrediel did not want to fight anymore. It felt wrong. 

Niphrediel did not realise her recklessness until she felt a punch to her back with a right hand and the other coming up and ripping her cloak right off her and threw it back, far behind. 

Niphrediel watched everything as if in slow motion, as her scarf dropped from her face even before the shade was gone. Her eyes widened and, even before she felt anything, she screaming piercingly. 

Niphrediel fell back; the pain seemed to be burning everywhere. She had never felt the burn so powerfully before. Black smoke began to seep from her burning skin and she tried to cover up her face as best she could. 

Her eyes darted everywhere, looking for anything that could help, and she heard Aragorn cry out her name. 

The evil elf looked down at her as she cried out in pain. He seemed as vulnerable in his eyes as she was in body. Was that confusion she saw on his face? Huh? 

Niphrediel kicked away from him and rushed into the shade under a tree. 

Aragorn jumped down into the canyon and ran passed the horses and the elves before falling to his knees at Niphrediel's side. 

Fire was _everywhere!_ Niphrediel felt her tears run down her cheeks as she clenched her jaw to keep from screaming. It hurt so much; like an explosion of fire that burnt the insides of her skin. The pain was incredible. She was dying. 

Aragorn looked at her, his face tear stricken and pale as he wrapped his cloak around her. "Neph?" 

Niphrediel coughed, she could feel blood filling her mouth. "It hurts," was the only thing she could weep. 

Niphrediel could feel her insides rip open, and bit her lip to keep from crying out. She felt her mind begin to fade, but the pain was still there, and she could no longer move. Her head fell to the side and her body lay lifeless and limp. 

Aragorn watched her with helpless torment. "Neph? Neph!" 

Aragorn wrapped her up in his cloak and picked her up, holding her close with her head in the nap of his neck. 

He looked behind him to Glorfindel, who was explaining the happenings to the riders and the confused leader. "We must be quick." 

He raced Niphrediel into the infirmary, shutting all the shutters of the windows, and raced to find Gandalf and Elrond once the healers had come. 

Aragorn sat down on the armchair just beside the bed, as the healers did all they could. 

He prayed for mercy. Thankfully, he had not been imagining the fall and rise of her chest; she was still alive. He got her covered up just in time. 

Her face was burnt... so raw and fragile that not one inch could not be bandaged. Instead, she was covered in a thick layer of ointment. The scars would heal. In a few days, the texture of Niphrediel's skin would be as smooth as it always had been, but the inside of her flesh would take longer. It would be at least two weeks before Niphrediel would be able to smile, frown, raise her eyebrows or use any of her face muscles. They were too damaged. 

"Strange," whispered a healer to herself as she prepared to leave the infirmatory for the evening. She had been taking care of Niphrediel; making sure that the ointments were always fresh and Niphrediel's steady breathing continued. 

Aragorn barely glanced to the elleth. "What is it?" he asked, to be polite. 

"Oh," the healer smiled at Aragorn, her ancient eyes warm. From afar, she had seen the Ranger grow from a child. "Her healing is extraordinary, is all. For a mortal... it is very strange... but I suppose it is rude to scrutinize blessings." 

Aragorn nodded once, and listened to the elf maiden leave with the same heavy heart. People came and left, but he remained in his chair. And for some reason, when he was alone, his weeping came to no end. 

Niphrediel rested in her white gown. For the first time in a long, long while, she looked like a little girl again. 

Aragorn sniffed and stroked her smooth. bare arms lovingly before coming to her long, lifeless hand. He wrapped it in his, and placed it against his heart. Leaning forward, Aragorn was careful not to comb her hair with his fingers. Even her scalp had been burnt. 

Aragorn sighed, pleased at least that he was warm, before resting his head on the blankets atop of Niphrediel's stomach. Only her scalp, face, neck and the skin of her chest that the scarf had covered had been scorned. The rest of her was fine; a thousand loving memories wrapped in flawless skin. 

He kissed the back of Niphrediel's hand; resting it in front of his mouth. He still held it with his hand, marvelling at how easily life might have fled from each and every limb of her body. He kissed Niphrediel's hand three times. 

He remembered when he had woken up once after he had injured himself badly and had been unconscious for days, and he had woken up to see Niphrediel curled into his shoulder. She was only eight years old or so, so tiny and dependent. She had not moved from his side throughout for the three weeks he had been in the infirmary unless it was to change and wash when Gilraen had hauled her out of the room. But all through that time, she had been sobbing and screaming. 

He thought of Saruman, and his thoughts darkened for a moment, but then his attention strayed as he slowly feel to sleep. He had a dream. He knew he was dreaming, though he was still in his chair, watching over Niphrediel. The texture of the world was different. Though he moved, he did not feel. It was a subtle difference, but it was obvious to the watchful. 

He got a small fright when he heard a voice, and jumped a little in his chair. 

"I am sorry, my son." 

Aragorn looked over his shoulder as the vision of his mother walked to the other side of Niphrediel's bed. 

Aragorn frowned. "Why is that, mother?" he asked. 

Gilraen smiled sadly, looking at her daughter. "You have been such a good parent for her. More than I was..." 

"Do not say that, mother," Aragorn mumbled, not wanting to hear it. 

Gilraen shrugged. "But it is true," she said, looking down with glistening eyes and her face falling. "Think about it, Aragorn. I should be the one sitting with her hand in mine waiting for her to wake up." 

Aragorn shook his head. "_You_ are still her mother." 

"I know." Gilraen said, "But I am sorry, you may not realise now why I am apologising but you will soon. Now as you say, _I_ am her mother, yet you are the one now who should take care of her"- 

"And I am her older brother, I am supposed to take care of her," Aragorn replied, his face dark. "There will be no more to be spoken of this, she may be able to hear us and if we continue this shall turn into an argument and I wish for her not to hear that." 

Gilraen smiled, walked around and kissed her son on the crown of his head. "You make me proud. You both do. Remember that I did what I did for her benefit, you will know one day of what I speak of," she said, and adjusted his warm blanket, knowing that he would be on the comfortable armchair all night. She smiled sadly, before shaking her head softly, "I love you, my son." 

Aragorn knew he was dreaming. But he liked to think, briefly, that he was not, even if his dreamworld Gilraen had disturbing things to say. 


	3. Chapter two: Scars from the Alfirin

**Chapter two: Scars from the Alfirin**

*****

*****

*****

**Note: **

Muinthel=sister Muindor=brother, 

Nana=mother   Naneth=mother, 

Hên=child         Gwilwileth=butterfly

Nin=my 

Nieninquë= Quenya for Niphredil. Niphredil (Snowdrop) is a white flower in Lothlorien. Niphrediel is named after 'Niphredil' obviously.

______________________________________________________________________________________________

Aragorn awoke to the sound of soft humming and fingers stroking his hair.

He frowned, and opened his eyes, setting upon the face of Arwen that looked down at him.

"Awake," she whispered. "My father must speak with you." She smiled, and stepped back so Strider could stand. 

Aragorn looked to Niphrediel, astonished that her skin was clearing up so well. Her skin was still burnt, but it was no longer swollen and some skin had healed properly. He did know that the damage would have been made on the _inside _of her skin rather then the outside.

Aragorn stood and yawned, then went to walk passed Arwen who stood stationary, staring with saddened eyes at the sleeping girl, but paused and turned his head and lightly kissed Arwen's temple, before walking out of the room.

Arwen held a book in her hand that Estel had taken from Niphrediel's bedchamber, and placed it on the chair, as she took the nearest candle and used it to light all the others of the room that had been blown out by wind, so the room was bright once again from the hundreds of burning wicks. 

She sat down on the chair, her face peaceful, and began to read the story. Gilraen had once told her it had been Niphrediel's absolute favourite ever since she was but a child when Aragorn had first read it to her. Gilraen had read it to her whenever Aragorn was away; it was the only thing that made her calm. 

_'The Nightingale'_, one of the most beautifully written interpretations of the Lúthien and Beren love story.

Arwen sighed, before beginning to read, her voice carrying the softness and gentleness of silk.

Aragorn walked into Elrond's grand study full of books and beautiful wooden furniture.

Glorfindel stood looking out the beautiful silver window at the garden's with one of Aragorn's oldest and special friends beside him. Elrond was not there, which was unusual.

Legolas's face was happy yet anxious. He smiled. "Hello, Aragorn."

Aragorn nodded. "Welcome back to Rivendell, Legolas. Do not worry, my thêl will be fine, her will is strong and her health will return."

Legolas sighed. "That is a relief, Aragorn. Death to such a child would be a crime to my higher ethics."

Aragorn nodded, smiling in the corners of his mouth. "My Nieninquë is too strong willed to die."

Glorfindel grinned, his brows raised. "Really? Reminds me of someone I know."

Aragorn lowered his head with a small grin on his lips. 

One week later

Niphrediel's eyes fluttered open. It was morning. The moon was out and shone down on her face. She moved her hand to make sure she could move for it stung painfully when she tried to frown.

She could move easily.

She sat up on the bed and looked around the room. She had been moved to her bedroom, and the curtains of her bed had been brought together. 

Niphrediel peeled herself out of the blankets and stepped from a space in the drapes, her bare feet touching the cold marble floor.

Her room was unnaturally bright with much more candles then she usually had, and the fire was high and bright which added its glow.

Niphrediel's walked to her bureau. The mirror was large, almost went up to the roof, but it was beautiful. 

She stared at herself as she tried to frown at her reflection. She gasped out in pain, and saw a small patch of her forehead begin to redden as the healing skin underneath began to bleed. 

Niphrediel tried to smile, but stopped quickly before any skin underneath would be torn.

Niphrediel put a hand to her cheek but took it away quickly. Her skin ached to be touched, as if she had dug the tip of a blade into her flesh. It would take months for that to go away. Her lips stung when she brushed them with her tongue, since the flesh there was so unharmed compared to the rest. They would not heal for months, being such made by such fragile tissue. The ointment could not be put on her lips to prevent it being consumed into her mouth. The ointment was for her outsides, if it came inside it could be fatal, being made from such strong ingredients. 

Niphrediel felt something rough on the area of skin on the corner of her jaw and turned her head. The scar was fading, but it would remain forever as a reminder.

Niphrediel felt small beads of water fell from her eyes. The sun had told her she did not belong in the most painful way. She shuddered when she tried to remember the pain. She never wanted to feel it again.

She changed quickly into her bathrobe, a simple white satin robe that trained behind her as she walked.

She walked out into her bathing pool. A small walled-in lagoon made only for her. She could only use this one at night, for it had no roof.

It was beautiful; the moon looked huge and reflected its shinny face into the black water.

She sniffed and lifted her robe up so it would not get wet as she dipped her foot into the water creating a ripple that spread throughout the water, making it look like black silk.

The water was warm. She waited long enough and took off her robe and settled it on a nearby stone bench then edged herself into the water.

She lied back in it, letting herself float as the pure water caressed her body, and looked up at the sky. 

She let herself float, just thinking. She washed herself with perfumed lotions and washes, and quickly stepped out and back into her robe.

She quickly did up the silk clasps that began from the middle of her chest and flowed right down. The robe was snub at the top except for the large flared sleeve that came down passed her fingers if she let her arms fall straight down; it could be worn over a gown, though it was not its purpose.

Her scalp ached if she pulled on her hair a little less then gently, and fell down behind her dripping onto the train. She noticed that her neck and chest stung only when poked or touched roughly or hard.

Her face, neck, and chest were damp and shinny in the light as she slowly made her way back to her room. 

"Niphrediel?"

She stopped, and turned her head. "Ivanneth!" She yelled. Ivanneth was a close friend of Gilraen and was also an elf. She was once Gilraen's only handmaiden who cared for her throughout the painful years.

Niphrediel's mother was Gilraen and that was what she called her, and Ivanneth was 'naneth' or 'nana'. Ivanneth was like an aunt who was like a mother to her, and since she was an elf Niphrediel gave her the tittle mother in Elvish while she called Gilraen mother. 

Though, none could compare to Gilraen, Niphrediel loved Ivanneth much.

Ivanneth smiled and quickly walked to Niphrediel and gave a caring embrace.

Ivanneth frowned as she let the child go. "Why are you so wet? You are late as it is, young one." Ivanneth looked at Niphrediel's attire and beamed, bringing her hands to her mouth in shock. "And you wear a gown! Oh, never can my old memory ever remember seeing you in a gown!"

Niphrediel shook her head. "No, Ivanneth! I just finished a bath and this is not a"-

Ivanneth shook her head and pulled her along. "It matter's not! We have no time."

"Have no time for what?" Asked Niphrediel, trying to rip her hand from Ivanneth's grasp but not daring to be rough with her own naneth.

Ivanneth rose to the door and opened it, blinding Niphrediel by the great light of the hall.

Niphrediel took her hand away. The gigantic hall was polluted by about twenty people, which was more then was usually present. There were even dwarfs! What fascinating creatures they were, Niphrediel knew they were not really the correct species for her to have an obsession with, but they were so fascinating. Their tales were always grand, she had read most. 

Her hair still dripped and she wished to brush it so the curls fell straight and the dripping stopped.

Ivanneth smiled back. "Come on!" She said.

Niphrediel shook her head. "No nana, I have only been awake for an hour or so, leave me be."

Ivanneth shook her head. "No my love, not today. A lot has happened since you fell asleep."

Niphrediel would have frowned, but did not even dare to try. "Like what?"

Ivanneth smiled, beginning to walk away. "Ask your brother! Or at least find him!" She yelled back, leaving to talk to a couple elderly people sitting at a table laughing and talking.

Niphrediel wanted to wipe the water off her face, but was not that stupid. She turned and went to walk out.

"Niphrediel!"

Niphrediel quickly turned as Glorfindel ran to her. She so wished to smile, to show her happiness, but her eyes showed it though she did not know that.

Glorfindel embraced her and twirled her around as if she weighed nothing.

Niphrediel was used to it, and hugged him back, careful for her cheek not to touch his. 

Glorfindel let her stand on the ground and beamed. "Are you alright, child?" He asked.

Niphrediel nodded. "Yes. What is this about?" She asked, indicating the small party.

Glorfindel smiled. "A small group just to discus more of the happenings of the council with Lord Elrond. It has been quite interesting."

Niphrediel groaned when she tried to frown accidentally and Glorfindel looked at her strangely.

 "You are sure you are fine?"

Niphrediel nodded. "Yes." She searched the ballroom. "Where is Estel?" She asked.

Glorfindel smiled. "At the balcony, chatting with Mithrandir." He replied. "Come back and talk to me when you are done."

"Okay." She said, and began to walk to the balcony.

As she dodged a human man, she saw Gandalf slowly walk in through the door. 

She had only heard of him in books and stories, she had never seen him before.

He stared at her, with caring weariness and kind curiosity as if she were just a wonder as he was to her.

Niphrediel slowly turned her head, and walked out onto the balcony.

She looked to one side, then to the next and crossed her arms and began to walk to her brother who leaned against the railing, looking over the early-night view of Imladris.

"Good morning."She said, walking in beside him and leaned on the railing with her crossed arms.

Aragorn turned his head and smiled. "Hello." He said, and went to kiss her forehead.

Niphrediel dodged it. It made Aragorn frown obviously hurt by her action.

Niphrediel shook her head. "No," she said, "It stings when I touch my face, it aches to speak." She said, rushy.

Aragorn then smiled, relieved. "Oh."

Niphrediel stopped herself from frowning, seeing he had his sword on. It was a sword he hardly used, but it was the prettiest, made from hard metal with a gold hilt imbedded with diamonds, rubies and other such gems.

She leaned back on the railing and took the sword out. Aragorn did not complain or move, he did not even react for he knew the way her mind works and it was harmless anyway.

"Have you eaten?" He asked, watching her move away and hold the sword out, point up.

She shook her head. "No." She replied, practising a swing, twirling the heavy sword around slowly with familiar skill.

Aragorn smiled. _Just like me._

She practised stabbing. "How long have I been asleep?" She asked.

Aragorn shrugged. "Not too long. Over a week." He pushed off the railing and looked back. "Come on, let's get something to eat."

Niphrediel shook her head. "Can you get me a plate? I shall be five minutes, I want to change." She said.

Aragorn nodded. "Carrots?" He asked.

Niphrediel nodded. "Yes please."

"Alright." He gently replaced his sword and walked out.

Niphrediel quickly walked from the hall and marched to her room to dry herself.

She did not like being damp, she could feel water from her hair trickling down her back.

She was careful when she dabbed a satin flannel across her face, even then she wanted to cry out in pain, but her skin did not bleed or redden from it.

She put on some dark ruby-coloured leggings and matching tunic. The tunic had black silk clasps from the top of the square-neckline to the bottom, at the bottom of her stomach. The sleeves were flared and came up to her wrists.

She simply brushed her hair, tied a bit up into a casual bun and shoved on some boots before walking out.

Aragorn waited at the table for her and she quickly sat down and they ate in silence as they always did.

There was nothing wrong with silence. It was peaceful. They never spoke when they ate a meal together; it was almost a ritual. As soon as one would sit down to eat the conversations between them would stop. 

Niphrediel finished quickly and sighed.

She licked her lips. "Would you like a drink?" She asked, seeing Elrond talking with Gandalf in the corner of the room.

Aragorn chewed. "Yes please." He mumbled.

Niphrediel picked up their two empty goblets and began to walk to the small fountain at the corner of the room, where all the carafes of ale were filled. Instead of water, the fountain served ale.

Niphrediel filled up the goblets and noticed something new on the wall. She put the cups down on a stone bench and walked over to the decoration hanging on the wall.

It was a rather nice dagger.

Niphrediel took it down from its hook and played with it. It was pretty sharp, she balanced the sharp tip on her index finger, making sure the point would not break her skin to dangerous expertise. If Estel had seen her doing such games she would be scorned, he remembered the wounds she had gotten to become so good.

She flicked it up and caught it by the hilt.

She turned around and her took the goblets back to the table. Glorfindel had joined them, sitting beside Aragorn and both talking quietly as they ate.

Niphrediel gave Aragorn his goblet and sat down. 

There was a short silence as they settled down and began to eat the rest of their meal.

It hurt so much to chew. Her jaw was wrenched in agony. Niphrediel gave up and a maid got her some soup. 

She sighed and ate it slowly.

Afterwards she, Glorfindel and Aragorn talked with regular sips of their ale.

"What happened at the council, Aragorn?" Niphrediel asked, fascination evident in her dark eyes. "Your hobbit healed well?"

Aragorn nodded. "Yes, Frodo is fine and awake." He answered her last question; he then chuckled. "You would have hated the council, _gwilwileth_. Arguments and more arguments."

Glorfindel laughed and nudged Aragorn's arm. "If she had been there the moment Boromir contradicted you, she would have jumped up faster then Legolas ever could!" Aragorn and Glorfindel cracked up laughing.

"But what is going to happen about the Ring?" Niphrediel asked.

Aragorn sighed sadly and Glorfindel was suddenly silent.

"I am to help Frodo and eight others that make up our Fellowship travel to Mount Doom to destroy it." Said Aragorn.

Niphrediel's eyes widened in excitement. "Really?"

Aragorn nodded, his eyes sad. "Do not think of such a thing grandly, _muinthel_. It may be a perilous quest. Something may happen to me!" He nagged like an old crone, but a smile still on the corners of his mouth.

Niphrediel sat back, playing with her fingers. "You have had too much ale for one night, _muindor."_

Aragorn yawned. "Yes, I may have. The night unfortunately for me, has come to an end." He looked to Niphrediel. "Oh, yes, I will get you tomorrow to come to a great banquet in honour of the Fellowship."

Niphrediel never went to banquets; they held no interest for her regardless of the kind people attending. "But"-

"Do not insult me so to not come. How shall I feel that my own blood will not give up one night to eat and dance in my honour?"

Niphrediel shrugged, lowering her gaze.

Aragorn reached over and patted her hand. "Come on, Nieninquë, do come. I will be gone a long time, let us treasure the time we have now."

He was making her feel guilty, as he had meant to.

Niphrediel sighed, but nodded.

Aragorn smiled and stood. "Good night Glorfindel, Niphrediel."

Glorfindel smiled and they both watched Aragorn stride out of the hall and turn left once he stood in the hall.

Niphrediel and Glorfindel talked for a couple more hours before they both retired. Niphrediel let Glorfindel go, she knew he was tired.

Niphrediel walked back into her room and changed back into a comfortable robe. All of her robes were the same, though the colours of them varied.

She walked out onto the balcony and leaned on the top of the silver railing. Though the night was upon the world of Rivendell, lights twinkled over the valley of the city. It was beautiful at night, but Niphrediel knew that it would be breath taking with the sun rather then the artificial lights. But she could only wonder.

It would be a long time before she would consider going out again. She no longer had the confidence to put her life in the hands of her cloak.

Niphrediel wondered if Aragorn had slain the riders. Niphrediel nodded, of course he would have. 

She looked to the sky. The sun would rise in a few hours, which would be all Glorfindel would need to face the day ahead. 

Niphrediel turned and walked back inside, her eyes blank. 

 

Niphrediel awoke to the sound of music, the sun gone but the moon was still low in the sky. The band down stairs must have been practising. 

The song was light hearted and melodic, making Niphrediel wish to do someone active today.

Unfortunately she was anything but a morning person. It seemed her short fuse seemed to be cut in half in her first hour of the morning. It was truly horrible, since Niphrediel did not exactly like being harsh to people who did not deserve it.

She got off her bed and discarded her nightgown and donned the robe she wore the night before and went to the lagoon to wash.

When she walked back to her room, damp with water, she almost gasped when she saw two handmaidens and Estel waiting for her.

She looked from Aragorn, to the two handmaidens, and back to Aragorn again. "What devilry is this?"

Aragorn smiled. "This was not my doing, I fear Elrond wishes to portray the lords and maidens of his house in respect."

Niphrediel's face felt worse then before, the water had this time not helped, but Niphrediel knew that it was better that she had cleansed them again. Aragorn could almost see the pain, his face sympathetic.

"Do not fear!" He said and reached into a sack in a brown bag slung over his shoulders and got out a blue tinted glass bottle, the thick dark blue liquid kept inside by a thick calk. 

He held it out to her, his face bright. "It is from Mithrandir! He brewed it last night, which was why he left the dinner so early. He says that the calmer you are the stronger are the effects, so do not get angry." He held it out to her. "Unfortunately Gandalf warns that the taste may not be complementary, but it will take the pain away, he says, as long as you do not touch the skin. At least then I will see you smile. I fear that this price will also mean that it will heal slower." 

Niphrediel took the bottle and looked at it. "What must I do? Is it lotion or a potion?"

Aragorn nodded. "Potion. Just scull it down, _muinthel_."

"Now?" Niphrediel twisted the calk and pulled it off. 

Aragorn nodded again. "Down it all." He said.

Niphrediel took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, and brought it to her lips.

It felt like she was swallowing slime, thick like oil Unfortunately, it tasted just as bad also. It was the most sour thing she had ever tasted.

She held the bottle high so she did not have to struggle to swallow it. She felt like she wanted to gag, there was so much of it, but Niphrediel remembered some other horrible things she had eaten, like once when Aragorn tried to make an elvan stew, and suddenly the oil did not taste so horrible.

"Quickly Niphrediel!" Aragorn yelled, making Niphrediel's drinking speed quicken in haste.

Niphrediel closed her eyes and felt something inside her chest begin to heave, but she swallowed it down. She had not drunken so much just for her to let it all out.

She took the bottle down; taking deep breathes when no longer did the vile liquid fall from the bottle.

A handmaiden held out a golden goblet of grapes and Niphrediel nodded at her and ate all the grapes. At that time they were the most delicious things she could have ever tasted.

She was amazed, as the pain seemed to fade away till it was only a light sting in all places but her lips. She could smile, though not a large one, but it hurt just as much as ever to touch them.

Niphrediel laughed in wonder, pulling on her hair and touching her cheek. 

Aragorn smiled broadly. "Well I shall leave you to prepare my own attire." He turned and walked out, leaving Niphrediel.

He could see her pleading look as he shut the door, leaving her with the handmaidens.

Niphrediel said nothing. She allowed the two handmaidens to do what they would with her hair, pulling it slickly away from her face, in reasons Niphrediel wondered was to make it clear she was a human, and styled it into a messy bun adorned with no decorations and three long braids falling straight down her back from under it.

Then they put on some totally unneeded silver circlet onto her forehead that joined at the bun. It was lovely, beautiful perhaps, but it did look unsuited on a human girl. It was made for an elvan maiden, Niphrediel recognised it as one of the circlets that were being made for Arwen.

It looked out of place, not only because it was on a human, but because it was on her. Niphrediel never adorned any trinket of such sorts, unless Elrond wished her to wear something upon her brow on oh-so rare occasions.

The handmaidens looked proud whereas Niphrediel looked like she was about to gag. She disliked looking so very feminine; there were too many prissy maidens in this world as if none wanted to be unique but her. It looked wrong; Niphrediel did not like it. The hair was fine, she sometimes wore it that way herself to keep her hair at bay, but the circlet was too much. It was only a banquet, not a wedding.

She drew the line when the handmaidens held up a gown.

Niphrediel smiled and told them that she already had a gown. When they insisted Niphredil brought in the guilt, telling them that it was her mothers gown and that she wished her to wear it on a special occasion.

Every citizen of Rivendell knew of Gilraen, and of her death, and immediately came sincerest apologise from the handmaidens.

Niphrediel pretended to be slightly hurt and ushered them out of her room, promising them that it was fine. 

As soon as she shut the door, the pained expression was off her face and an unimpressed one came on.

She tried to take off the circlet, but could not undo the thin chains of it entwined in the hair of her bun. 

She cursed and then searched for something to don.

White or black? White or black? White or black?

The woman in Niphrediel had come, the one that worried about the colour of a garment she wore. Niphrediel didn't like her, she was too frustrating; she was the half Gilraen had enforced lovingly, and the larger half, the one that dominated the other and motivated Niphrediel most of the time, was the presence borne by none other then Estel. 

Niphrediel swore, a little too loudly, a word that would've made Aragorn's eyes pop from their sockets in shock that she even knew of it, and she grabbed the white suit, changing into it as quickly as she could.

Made of white velvet, with a V-neck and arched collars, and snug sleeves that came a little looser from the elbow down. It was just another of her garments, they were all the same. And of course, her black boots.

Niphrediel walked out the door, banging straight into Estel.

Aragorn cursed, stepping back.

Niphrediel raised an eyebrow, looking at Aragorn's attire. He, to, was adorned by a band of sliver twine on his brow. His face was freshly shaven, hair washed, brushed and shinning. He wore a beautiful grey tunic, dark grey leggings and two black leather wristlets on his wrists with faint silver markings. 

Niphrediel blinked a couple times. She had seen him dressed so rarely, what happened to his casual-yet-sometimes scruffy, tough ranger look he fit so well. 

"Do I look that horrible, _muinthel_?" Aragorn chuckled.

Niphrediel glanced at him and did her best to smile. "No, it is just a shock to see you so . . . . ." She tried hard to find the word.   

"Formal?" 

Niphrediel nodded. "Precisely." 

Niphrediel watched as a helpless smile came to his lips. "Do not get used to it." He said. "It feels rather strange in such attire."

He was slightly confused when she smiled, and gave him a tight hug.

He frowned, rubbing her back. "Are you ill, child?" He asked.

She let him go, her face at peace. "Course not." She said. Niphrediel was rarely ill.

Aragorn smiled. "Good." Aragorn's face was sadly dark as he noticed the scar on her jaw that would never fade. He sighed sadly. 

Niphrediel frowned. "What did you do to those riders?" She asked.

Aragorn offered his arm, she took it, and as they began to walk, answered. "What could I have done?" He then realised she did not know of the true identities of the riders, she still thought them evil. He turned to Niphrediel as they walked into the great hall. "Niphrediel, they are not"-

The music of the musical ensemble drowned out his voice and he watched as a joyful Glorfindel rushed Niphrediel through the groups of people.

The hall was humongous, and round, without walls but only gigantic silver columns that held the roof up high.

Niphrediel looked behind her, noticing that Aragorn was not following her and frowned, then paused. It had stung; perhaps the potion was wearing off its strong affects. 

Niphrediel chose to be careful, keeping her face firm and unmoving.

She held on to Glorfindel's hand tightly as they walked to the grand high table at the end of the hall. Lord Elrond sat on the grandest chair on the centre with Gandalf the Grey beside him and the Lady Arwen on his left side with the Lord Adviser beside her.

Glorfindel sat on his chair, on Elrond's left, showing his importance as a Lord and his acquaintance with Lord Elrond. 

Niphrediel searched for Elrohir and Elladan, but could not see them in the crowds as everyone made their way to their tables.   

Niphrediel gave a small smile to Aragorn as he sat down on the chair in between she and Glorfindel. The chairs were placed in a type of order of rank, which was why she did not sit between Glorfindel and Aragorn like she usually did.

Ivanneth walked with such grace many stopped to watch her sit down beside Niphrediel.

She was like Elrond, neither young nor old. Her caramel gold hair seemed to float when she walked and her blue eyes twinkled with all the light of elenath. She was lovely and tall, her beauty faring most.

Now that Gilraen had gone, Ivanneth took upon herself to take care of Niphrediel as a mother would, for she loved Niphrediel dearly as if she were a second child. Her own daughter, Dúliness, was already grown and waiting in peace in Valinor.     

She looked to Niphrediel with disturbing worry. "I was finally told how you were hurt, _hên._" Her voice was firm, but on the last word her tone turned as gentle as the softest feather. She frowned, as if in pain, as she ran her thumb on the rough skin of the scar. 

Niphrediel shrugged. "It could have been worse, _naneth._" She turned, looking back to the people of the hall that looked upon them all, waiting for Elrond to make his awaited speech, and sighed deeply.

Ivanneth nodded. "That is true, _nin hên_. Let I just thank Eru for that. Mistakes are made every day."

Niphrediel frowned, immediately turning back. "Mistakes?" She was cut off by the sounds of by the sound of a silver horn, and she whipped her gaze back around to the entrance. 

She caught her breath and leaned onto the table to get a better look as a line of a small group of male dwarfs walked in, heads up high. They walked to the table and kneeled on their right knees, lowering their heads in respect to their table.

Niphrediel gave a quick glare at a table of elves that scorned the dwarfs in silent words. They were not quiet until Aragorn heard them, and looked at them with great disagreement. 

Niphrediel watched at the dwarfs stood. Then it was their turn.

She had done this many times before to knew people and quickly sat up straight so her head was inline with everyone else's save Elrond, whose chair was higher. The table simultaneously lowered their heads down, showing respect back to the dwarfs for all who sat upon the table were all from the House of Elrond and were important people of Rivendell. Elrond did not lower his head, but not to disrespect, he'd give them a small nod in the end. 

Elrond smiled his kingly smile at the dwarfs, the table's heads still bowed. "Welcome to this feast, Master Dwarfs, in honour of this quest."

Then the table raised their heads back up, in chorus with each other and Elrond gave a slow nod to the dwarfs before they moved away.

Niphrediel liked doing it, it made her feel important or something. She watched the dwarfs walked to their table.

"My dear it is strange how affectionately you think of those creatures." Ivanneth whispered softly.

Niphrediel sighed. "You do not understand, nana, you have never read any of their stories and I doubt you ever will. Not only that but you are an Elf, that helps your stubbornness to see grandeur in a race like them."

Ivanneth nodded, she agreed with every word. "My you are getting smart, hên."

Niphrediel smiled and looked at the door.

There was silence. Niphrediel turned to Ivanneth. "What are we waiting for?"

Ivanneth took one of the braids from behind Niphrediel's back and let it fall down her shoulder lovingly. "The group of men from Gondor," she saw Niphrediel's eyes brighten at the sound of the place; she turned to Aragorn but saw he stared blankly at the entrance. She said nothing, but she knew he knew already. 

"And elves from Mirkwood." Ivanneth finished, but Niphrediel was no longer listening, she was too excited about the mention of Gondor, though her face looked sad rather then glad.

Niphrediel sighed, looking down, deep in thought.

Ivanneth looked over at Aragorn, then back to Niphrediel and held back a chuckle. Their expressions on their independent faces were the same and were both lowered. It showed Estel's influence from all the years of Niphrediel's growing; their similarity.

Both of the human's heads shot back up when the horns blew again.

The men of Minas Tirith stood tall, power and nobility radiating from their keen faces. They were used to having dinner here, but this must have been the first party they had been to here for they looked around with fresh awe. 

Then again came the bow and Elrond saying, "Welcome to this feast, Lords of Men, in honour of this quest," and heads were back up again.

Niphrediel sighed, slouching in her chair.

Aragorn looked back at her, and his eyes flashed as if he remembered something. "Niphrediel, you know about the riders, the ones that gave you"-

"I do not have amnesia, Estel." Niphrediel said, a smile in her voice.

"They are not"-

He was silenced by the horns, and looked up desperately to the entrance.

Niphrediel stared at Estel with a frown on his face and slowly her gaze moved to the ones walking in.

She glanced at them all casually; she did not really have much interest in them apart from the fact they were from Mirkwood. She was surrounded by elves; they were a race familiar to her. If they were elves Lothlorien then it would be different though.

Niphrediel sighed, until she turned her gaze to the elf in the centre and her entire body tensed. 

"_Um._" (Evil) She gasped so quietly Estel struggled to hear.

Aragorn felt her freeze and quickly turned to face her, his hand on her arm to turn her to him. Her eyes were wide in fear and did not stray to Aragorn despite his efforts. Her gaze was a mixture of disbelief, confusion but most of all fear. 

She was so afraid Aragorn watched as a cold tear fell from the corner of her eye. "Niphrediel? Niphrediel!" He hissed, quietly so that no one else could hear. "They are from Mirkwood. You mistook them for the riders and for that I take full responsibility for even telling you of them." He watched as she closed her eyes and waited a moment before opening them. Her eyes pleaded with him, her gaze wondering. 

Her skin seemed to be freezing; the hand he held was colder then ice. 

Aragorn smiled sadly. "It was a mistake, Niphrediel, that was all. A great mistake and a great misunderstanding." He watched the transformation of her expressions. "That is Thranduilion, Legolas. He is a very old friend of Glorfindel and mine. He is not evil, I assure you."

All traces of fear were gone, now he could see nothing. She was blank; like a canvas without paint. She lowered her face in utmost shame.

How stupid could she have been? 

She coughed nervously and stood from her seat. She walked as calmly as she could to get out from the hall through the back. "Niphrediel?" She heard Mioniel call quietly.

Once she stepped onto grass she sprinted, running as quickly as her legs could carry her.

She collapsed onto her knees and hands beside a tree and rushed to a bush and began to vomit with vile gasps and heaving of her back.  

Her vomit looked black in the light. She fell backwards onto her back and gasped, taking quick and deep breaths to refill her deprived lungs.

"My dear"-

Niphrediel instantaneously twisted onto her stomach and held herself up by her arms, her left leg up against the grass and ready to push her up. She looked at the tall figure in front of her.

Gandalf smiled. "Are you quite alright?"

Niphrediel's body immediately relaxed. She sighed and slowly stood up.

Gandalf noted how tall she was for a maiden, only a couple inches at the most shorter then Aragorn. He frowned; she had his eyes. He looked closer; she did not have his blood.

Niphrediel nodded. "Yes, I am fine. Just thoroughly shamed, my lord."

Gandalf took in her words and smiled. "I am sorry for that." He pointed to the rumbled bush. "I forgot to tell Aragorn about the affects of my little brew."

Niphrediel frowned. "I was supposed to have"-

"Yes!" Gandalf beamed. "It leaves in all the goodness and gets rid of everything the potion doesn't need."

Niphrediel sighed; relieved she was not sick. "Thankyou for the tonic, either way Mithrandir." She said.

Gandalf smiled and patted her head, telling her it was all right without the use of his voice. He looked at her pale face. "You are very young aren't you, child." It was not a question

Niphrediel nodded. "Aye."

Gandalf frowned. "Then how could you have been borne to Arathorn if he were killed before your conceiving?" He asked.

Niphrediel answered casually for it was a question she had been asked a couple times. "When my father died my mother was just pregnant with me, she unfortunately angered an elvish healer," she chuckled, remembering the tale, "and the elvish healer jinxed my mother, fortunately it did not harm her since the healer was not very skilled, but it slowed her pregnancy to such extent that . . . " She indicated herself, giving her explanation. "It took so very long. My mother also said that I aged very slowly as a child. That must have something to do with the jinx also, I suppose." 

Gandalf spent a moment just staring at the girl. She believed every word she had spoken.

_Oh Gilraen how could you not tell the poor girl? _He asked inside his mind sadly. 

Gandalf sighed. "Well, you should clean yourself up and I will tell the party why you ran out so suddenly; because of my awful remedy, then you can come back and have something to eat with your brother."

Niphrediel shook her head. "I think not, grey one, I do not think I am in the mood for company."

Gandalf smiled. "I insist, young one, I think people would very much like to speak with you again before the night is out." He said, retreating. "I shall not take no for an answer or I shall send Aragorn to get you!" He laughed.

Niphrediel watched him go and cursed when she finally took in that she had to go back.

She cursed again and again as she made her way to her room and cleansed her mouth and teeth thoroughly out so she no longer tasted of the vile sour oil.

She put her face into the sink of water, thoughts plaguing her mind. She carefully dried her face save her lips. 

She searched her room quickly for anything that she could use as an excuse to be unsocial and took a small hardback book the story of Lord Gil-Galad and put in under her belt.

She walked tall, her hands hooked into the back of her belt to keep her from fidgeting, back into the hall. Everyone was chatting and talking, the music was light, quiet and upbeat.

She was lucky no one even noticed her slide back into her seat.

Aragorn looked at her. "Are you well, Nieninquë?"

Niphrediel looked down at the bowl of delicious smelling food before her and nodded. "Yes." She mumbled, and ate the food slowly, almost lazily.

In the hall of chatters she and Aragorn were the only ones at the table who ate in silence.

After the food came and went, the musicians began to play and people began to dance.

Niphrediel smiled as Aragorn was whisked away by Mioniel and onto the dance floor, she could see Arwen laughing and smiling as she watched also.

Glorfindel noticed her and moved onto Aragorn's seat. "Hey," he whispered, patting her shoulder. "Are you all right, _hên_? You rushed out too quickly for me to notice clearly."

Niphrediel sighed. "Yes, if only I could bang my head against a rock in the hopes that I will go to sleep and never wake up." She mumbled.

Glorfindel laughed and took a swig of the juice in his goblet. "Well let us dance!"

Niphrediel's barriers came up the moment he began to say the sound of d-

"No." She said immediately, getting out her book and relaxing against the back of the chair.

"I wish to dance." Glorfindel nagged.

Niphrediel glared up at him. "Then you dance with another, Glorfindel!" She laughed. "I have no skill there, my friend. Do not be so content to watch me embarrass myself yet again on the same night."

Glorfindel snatched the book from her hands quicker then her eye could catch, and he put it on the table, too far for her to reach and before Niphrediel opened her mouth to speak, he took her hand and hulled her up.

"Glorfindel no!" Niphrediel hissed, slapping his hand with her free one.

Glorfindel pulled her along until he found a place he liked and turned to his friend.

Niphrediel glared at him. "I hate you," she promised.

Glorfindel winked. "Love you too," he said, and began to dance with her in such a way that it was obvious that they were but friends to all whose eyes had narrowed if they had seen Glorfindel touched her face, but the main reason Glorfindel did that, apart from the fact that he thought of acting so lustfully towards Niphrediel was absolutely disgusting, was because it was dangerous to his health. Aragorn would kill him; she is only a child, though even if she were older Aragorn would still kill him.

Niphrediel listened to the elvish song a maiden sang. It was in Sindarin so most attending would understand.

Niphrediel had been raised around the language, but she had also been taught Quenya, also, as a child so she would have a wider range of vocabulary as wished by Elrond. She loved Quenya more then the common Elvish only because less people now spoke it, and fewer still learnt it. She and Aragorn would speak in it whenever they were walking through Rivendell and not too many people would have known one word they had said unless they were much older then they seemed. It was sad, though, the language was mostly used in songs and spells now and it had been so long that Aragorn had spoken it that Niphrediel doubted if he could even remember. 

The facts were still in him, though. His memory just needed to be freshened.  

After one dance, Niphrediel rushed from Glorfindel and was happy that Mioniel had unwillingly taken her place.

She noticed the four halflings, sitting and eating at their table. She recognised the darker-haired one as the halflings that had been injured weeks before.

Niphrediel walked back to her seat and took her book back, sitting down on her chair and read. She had read this story a million times.

She looked up once and found she was staring at someone. She frowned but she could not drag her gaze away, she was too startled. Her eyes flew back to the book when the person turned around to see her looking.

Niphrediel was not embarrassed and she hid her fear well. She was caught; the best she could do was act natural. 

Niphrediel looked back up and the elf nodded his head in a swift greeting and seemed to wait for hers. Niphrediel nodded her head, which was all she was giving, and turned back to her book.

The elf had almost killed her and had given her first permanent scar. Her outlook on her life changed the day she was beaten. 

She wondered if it was for the better of worse.

It could have been for the better, for it reminded her that she should be more careful, and that she was not invincible as she sometimes thought she was. Or it could have been for the worst for no longer would she be able to be relaxed under any cloak or . . . . .or . . . . .there were many more reasons for either better or worse, but she could not think clearly enough to discover them.

She did not blame the elf at all; he defended himself. She should have waited; she should not have taken off from Glorfindel.

She frowned, and felt her scar begin to ache. 

Logic over intuition was the way she was taught, and she knew she could no longer pretend that she was normal, for doing that would eventually be her death. In some ways, it already had been.


	4. Chapter three: The Summoning of Seven

**Chapter three: The Summoning of Seven**

*****

*****

*****

Niphrediel awoke to the music of a harp coming far from the gardens to sooth all ears that listened.

She opened all her windows and the light from the moon shone so brightly she did not need any candles to see clearly. If she were Aragorn she would of needed candles, though. 

She smiled, watching the rain falling like tears from the heavens.

She walked outside to her balcony and listened to the sound of the rain, her hair free around her and dressed in her pale blue nightgown and a blue satin robe.

She looked to the doors leading to Estel's apartments, but did not disturb him. She knew he needed his rest. 

Niphrediel unbuttoned the robe and placed it over a rocking chair, leaving it under the shelter of the silver roof sheltering the balcony.

Niphrediel quickly shoved on some boots and walked to the railing of the balcony and swung her legs over and climbed all the way down, hooking her feet into the gaps of the root stem pillar with scandalous familiarity in doing so until she let herself fall to the group with a short squish from the soggy grass under her feet.

Niphrediel ran across the grass to the stables, not even caring as the rain poured upon her

Her hair, skin and nightgown were saturated and damp, her hair flat and almost plastered to her back and down her front and shoulders.

Niphrediel peaked her head through the wooden doors of the stables, quickly searching with her eyes to see if anyone was there. She then looked to the line of horses and smiled.

"Draconic?" She whispered, as she stepped through the door.

She walked slowly down the isle, checking every stile until she came upon the one housing Draconic.

He looked at her with bright eyes, jumping excitedly on his front legs and neighing loudly. His excitement disturbed the horses around him and the noise began to increase with him.

Niphrediel walked to him, opening up the stool. _"Dina!" _*Be silent* She hissed, strapping a pair of reigns onto him. Immediately the horses were quiet, no longer chattering. Niphrediel could even hear the humming of beetles from outside.

Niphrediel quickly prepared Draconic's saddle and lead him out the doors of the stable, backwards, looking back to make sure she did not trip on something.

She lead him back behind the stables and hoisted herself up onto the saddle and looked over the moonlit fields highlighted blue under the moon's face.

The rain felt fresh against her skin, cooling her flushed skin. She lifted her head to the sky, feeling absolutely free. 

Draconic began to run across the fields, taking Niphrediel along with him. 

Niphrediel cherished this time, the only time where she could be outside without the heavy material of her estranged cloak. Only in her dreams would she be able to do so under daylight without cover.

She rode hard, her eyes closed and raised to the heavens as the rain fell down and soft thunder boomed. 

Niphrediel did not know how long she rode, but once she returned the horse she was dead hungry.

She quickly slipped Draconic back into his stile and quickly ran back to the house but hid quickly when she saw Aragorn talking to Elladan and Elrohir on the balcony.

Niphrediel cursed. She was not supposed to go out riding alone. She was not supposed to sneak out, either.

She quickly ran under the balcony and headed for the doors in the garden.

She poked her head through the door, and slipped in when she saw no one was there, closing the door silently behind her.

Her hair dripped and water ran down her skin almost as much as her nightgown that trailed water behind her, making her shivering cold now that her adrenaline rush had come to an end.

The sleeves and skirt clung to her, but Niphrediel detached the material, which helped. Her hair was a dripping mess down her front and back.

She walked through the garden entrance and into the first floor south hall. The staircases that lead to her apartments were in the north hall.

Niphrediel walked through the fire lit hall wearily, the soft breeze in the house making her almost freezing.

She made it through to the north hall easily, and her stride became more relaxed as she walked to the staircase.

"Gwilwileth?"

Niphrediel's eyes closed in dread. She turned around and bowed her head. "Lord Elrond." She greeted and looked up into the grey eyes of her once foster father.

Lord Elrond stood grandly, with Legolas and Glorfindel on either sides of him.

Glorfindel frowned and took off his robe. "_Sana sina."*Take this* _He put his golden robe around her shoulders.

Niphrediel nodded in thanks, then turned to Lord Elrond who looked at her with a disapproving intensity. 

Niphrediel lowered her eyes "_Amin hiraetha, Heruamin_." *I'm sorry, my Lord* She said quietly.  

_"Mani nae lle umien?"*_What have you been doing?* Elrond asked firmly.

Niphrediel turned back to Elrond, her eyes downcast. "_Draconic, nîn_ "-

"You still ride that wild horse?"

Niphrediel's nodded. "Aye, my lord." She said slowly. 

Elrond sighed, shaking his head helplessly. "Well you should go and change into fresh clothes, we shall be in my study where Aragorn has already been summoned to come."

Niphrediel nodded. "_Uma_. _Tenna' telwan san_.'"*Yes. Until later then*. She bowed her head before continuing on her way to her room.

"Gwilwileth?"

Niphrediel paused and turned around. "Yes?"

Elrond's face was dark. "I am asking you to come, also."

Niphrediel's eyes darted to Glorfindel quickly, but nodded. "Very well. I will not be long."

Elrond nodded. "We will be waiting."

Niphrediel turned back around and strode quickly away.

Once she made her way into her bedchamber he dried herself off and changed into comfortable and dry dark red robes, brushed her wet hair and took back the two tails of hair around her face and tied them into two braids that fell down her front behind her ears, and walked back down the staircase and back into the hall.

Her stomach rumbled, making her remember its neglect. But this was not the time to eat.

She walked with her hands joined in her front to stop her fidgeting. 

She frowned, seeing that the doors to Elrond's study were wide-open. 

Niphrediel walked through the doorway, into the room but paused.

Elrond sat at his grand desk. The two of the four chairs in front of him seated Glorfindel and Aragorn. Mioniel stood behind Elrond's left, her hands joined and head low and Gandalf stood tall with his staff on Elrond's right.

Niphrediel frowned. "Naneth?" She whispered, more to her self.

Mioniel sighed, looking at Niphrediel with morbid eyes. "Sit, _gwennamin ." _*My girl*

Niphrediel's lips slightly parted in alarm. Something was wrong, Mioniel never called her _gwenn. _ 

Niphrediel slowly walked to her seat, her feet having no trouble not tripping over the long robe.

She looked to Aragorn on the chair beside her own, and Glorfindel on the other.

Aragorn looked up at Niphrediel and smiled in a quick greeting as Niphrediel wearily sat down.

"What is this about, _Heruamin_?" *My Lord* Niphrediel asked, her voice discontented. 

Elrond took a deep breath._ "You attacked the party!" His voice seemed to boom like the loudest thunder._

Niphrediel winced, her eyes falling. "I thought they were intruders, my lord." She answered quietly.

Aragorn nodded. "It was a misunderstanding." He said.

Elrond did not seem to hear, he looked only at Niphrediel with eyes that seemed to see through her soul. "You ran from Glorfindel"-

Aragorn spoke for Niphrediel as she silently sat on her chair looking down at her hands as if in pain. "She meant not to do any harm"-

Elrond sighed, shaking his head. "That is not the point, Estel. Let the girl speak for herself." He turned his gaze back to Niphrediel's lowered face. "You ran from Glorfindel, whom Aragorn ordered you to accompany." He said, his brows high.

The room waited for Niphrediel's reply.

 Niphrediel took a deep breath. "Yes, but I"-

"You disobeyed guidelines; guidelines that are made for your safety"-

"I know, but"-

Glorfindel spoke, "It was not her fault, my lord. She is a child; they all make mistakes. We must not forget that, since it has been so long since we have been one."

Elrond looked to Glorfindel. "How long is she supposed to remain a child in our minds before we all realise she is no longer one?"

Niphrediel frowned, raising her head. "What is that supposed to mean?" She asked. 

Elrond frowned darkly. "It does not matter. You were hurt in a way that I always feared you would. I never agreed to you being able to go out during the day in the first place, but Estel gave reasons that even I agreed upon, but now I see it was wrong," his voice suddenly softened, "I do not blame you for what has happened. I should have never allowed it. If we had never allowed you to go outside when the sun was out then nothing would have happened. I see now that it was no use to push the bounds. It is not natural for you."

Niphrediel stood. "Then perhaps I should make a home in Mordor for it seems that by your point of view that I share a nature with all those creatures that live there." She hissed quietly and turned to leave.

Mioniel took a step foreword. "Niphrediel, stop." 

Niphrediel paused, turning around to look at her. Her frown darkened. "What else is there to say?"

Gandalf looked at Elrond. "There are things your mother should have told you, my dear."

Niphrediel's eyes seemed to harden. "My mother has nothing to do with this matter." She said.

Gandalf nodded. "That is true, my dear, this has something to do with this. It is a matter much more important then anything revolving the sun."

Niphrediel frowned. "What is it?"

Silence.

Niphrediel looked from Elrond to Gandalf knowing that both of them knew something she did not by the expressions on their faces. "What is it?" She repeated again.

Gandalf lowered his gaze. "I have not the heart to tell you, nor does Lord Elrond. It would be best for you to seek the answer elsewhere from someone who would have the will and power to answer _all_ of your questions."

Elrond nodded. "That is why you shall go to Lothlorien."

Niphrediel's eyes became wide. "Banishment." She gasped.

Aragorn straightened in his chair, full of alarm.

Elrond shook his head. "No, not banishment, child."

Niphrediel relaxed. "You are certain?"

Elrond nodded. "There is nothing to banish you for." He said.

Niphrediel nodded twice. "When will I depart, and with whom?"

"You shall leave one day before the Fellowship depart, and you shall be accompanied there by two of my most trusted escorts." Elrond answered.

Niphrediel frowned. "It is safe to travel at such a time?"

Elrond sighed. "Unfortunately, we no longer have a choice." 

Gandalf looked to Niphrediel. "We will not force you to go. Robbing you of free will would make us just as bad as any orc." He said, "Will you go?"

Niphrediel downcast her eyes and thought for a moment. She looked back up, her eyes weary. "I will go."

Elrond smiled sadly. "Good."

The meeting was dismissed, and all seven left the study. Most left to sleep, whereas Niphrediel walked into the kitchen where Annabon, the main cook, waited as she did every night to make Niphrediel something 'nutritious' to eat.

Annabon, whose name meant 'Elephant', was a firm, grumpy woman, but had a heart of gold. She was mortal, rather large, middle aged, but had always had a soft spot for Niphrediel ever since she was a child. 

Annabon always made sure Niphrediel got the first cupcake, and snuck her cockies if Niphrediel wanted a snack. Annabon believed that food was the flavour of life, and always made sure Niphrediel was well fed since Niphrediel was always too lithe for Annabon's comfort, as was Aragorn, whom she had a soft spot for also. 

Niphrediel sat on a wooden chair, leaning on the kitchen table with her head against the warm wood and her finger on the end of a knife that she dug gently into the wood, slowly rotating it.

Annabon worked the kitchen. "What do you want, princess?" 

Niphrediel shrugged. "I do not mind." 

Annabon groaned, walking passed her and taking the knife, startling Niphrediel for a moment.

Niphrediel frowned, looking up into Annabon's angry face. 

"Yes! You see me now!" Annabon exclaimed, "What do you want to eat?"

Niphrediel bit her lip. "Whatever you wish to make."

Annabon gave Niphrediel a threatening look, making Niphrediel laugh.

"All right!" Niphrediel laughed in defeat, "I will have"-

"I know what you will have. Since when did I ever give you a choice of what to eat?" Annabon cursed, and began to chop up vegetables in silence.

Niphrediel laughed, and put her head back onto the table and waited as Annabon did what she would.

Niphrediel tapped her fingers against the wooden surface as she closed her eyes, listening to the sound of Annabon chopping and humming softly to a happy tune.

She frowned, and her eyes opened when she heard the sound stop. 

"My lord, are you lost?" She heard Annabon ask, friendly and polite. It was a stranger; else Annabon would not be using her manners.

"Please do not call me a tittle, Legolas is good enough."

Niphrediel frowned, and turned her head. He must've been lost; it is not unusual since the house is so large.

Annabon put down her knife, and looked at Niphrediel. "My dear, the lord must've lost his way."

Niphrediel looked at Legolas. "Have you?"

Legolas shook his head. "No, Aragorn told me where you would be so I would not."

Niphrediel held back a frown. Why would he be looking for her?

Legolas laughed. "Do not worry, child, I will not hurt you." He said, and then his face seemed to sadden. "In fact it seems the image is eating me alive."

Niphrediel frowned, sitting back in her chair. "I do not need pity, milord."

Legolas nodded. "That is exactly what Aragorn said, but I am not giving you my pity."

Niphrediel looked at him wearily. "Then what?"

Legolas smiled. "I wish to pay you back." He said.

Niphrediel's eyes widened. "You wish to harm yourself in such a way?" She asked quietly.

Legolas laughed and he shook his head. "No, milady, no. Lo! I only wish to give you a gift. You shall get one with every scar I inflict on you." He laughed again.

Niphrediel shook her head, but began to laugh with him, though her laughter was quieter. It took away the tenseness of the room.

"A gift?"

Legolas nodded. "Aye. But I must know if you are allergic to anything."

Niphrediel shook her head. 

"Do you suffer from hay fever?" 

Niphrediel raised an eyebrow, as she shook her head again. "You have gotten me a cat?"

Legolas chuckled, shaking his head. "No, young one, what I will give you is so much greater." 

Annabon glared at Niphrediel, making Niphrediel turn her gaze. "Well, skinny-bin-ninny, do not just sit there and make the good lord have to drag you outside. It's obvious his present is not in this room." She walked over to Niphrediel and dragged the chair back away from the table.

Legolas laughed at Annabon's antics and Niphrediel jumped off the chair.

Niphrediel frowned at Annabon. "Must you be so violent?"

Annabon laughed, walking back to the vegetables. "Leave me, my love, I must cook."

Niphrediel followed Legolas out the door into the hall.

Niphrediel looked around the hall; it was empty apart from the torches put here and there to lighten the room. 

Legolas sighed, walking in front of her. "Again, I must give my indeed apology of hurting you so, I swear that the memory will haunt me forever." He said.

Niphrediel raised an eyebrow. "Is that supposed to make me happy?" She asked, unsettling. 

Legolas shook his head. "No, that is what my gift is supposed to do."

Niphrediel nodded. "Very well."

Legolas sighed; he seemed to look from her to the door leading to the garden. 

Niphrediel raised an eyebrow as silence drew on.

"Any moment now." Legolas assured, biting his top lip.

Minutes seemed to roll as no sound was made.

Legolas sighed. "The gift must be running a little late, I'm afraid." He said, and then sighed again, "Well let us talk then to keep us occupied."

"Very well." Niphrediel cleared her throat and crossed her arms.

"What is your name?" Legolas laughed, "Lord Elrond, Glorfindel _and_ Aragorn all call you different names that I am utterly confused."

Niphrediel looked to the staircase, watching a maid walk passed. "It's properly Niphrédiel." She answered.

Legolas nodded, "That is what Aragorn called you, as did Glorfindel, but he also called you Nieninquë so I was not sure."

Niphrediel nodded and she saw him notice her scar and his face sorrowed. "Oh no, I have branded you!" Legolas exclaimed, making Niphrediel crack up laughing.

Legolas frowned. "Usually it would not be a laughing matter, child."

Niphrediel replied with a shrug of her shoulders. She glowered at the maid that always seemed to walk back and forth sneaking peaks down at them.

"You are certainly your brother's sister." Legolas chuckled, making Niphrediel look back to him.

"Do you have any siblings?" She asked.

Legolas nodded. "A sister and brother." He answered.

"All younger?"

Legolas nodded again.

The creaking of a door made Legolas's head snap in the doors direction and a huge smile came onto his lips.

Niphrediel turned her head slowly to the door as it opened slightly.

A wolf trotted through the gap. It was huge, reaching Niphrediel's waist. It was beautiful, one of the most beautiful creatures Niphrediel had ever laid her young eyes upon. Its pelt was the colour of slightly grey tinted snow and its eyes glowed an endless blue and small stars seemed to sparkle right in its depths. It was large and obviously very strong with limps that could drag a boar and legs that could outrun any horse. It seemed to smile at Niphrediel with its white toothy smile.

Niphrediel's eyes widened and her breath came short and her heart missed a beat.

Legolas smiled at her reaction. "Beautiful, is it not? It is male only because it is the stronger of the wolf-genders. I tried to think of what would be able to protect you and what would be able to befriend you, but alas you already have a brother, so . . ."

Niphrediel smiled, her gaze still locked with the animals. Her eyes began to glisten.

The wolf was so beautiful.

The wolf walked to Legolas's side and brushed his head against Legolas's hand.

Legolas looked down at it and crouched down, becoming shorter then the wolf. He looked up at Niphrediel. "Come, child, it won't hurt you, I promise. He is a very magical creature." He said, as he entangled his hand in the pelt of its neck.

Niphrediel uneasily took slow, weary steps to the wolf's side. She crouched down, her arms around her knees, as the wolf stared down into her eyes.

Niphrediel looked at Legolas quickly. "Should I avoid its eye contact? Will it think I am trying to dominate?" It was common sense to know that if you stared into the eyes of a wolf it would think you are trying to make a fight to see who is the dominate one. That was how wolves settled rank.

Legolas smiled. "Do not do it just yet," he said, then put his mouth close to the wolf's ear. 

What he whispered was too quiet for Niphrediel to translate, but it was definitely in Elvish.

Niphrediel looked back at the wolf, and somehow could tell that it stood prouder then it did before.

Legolas moved his mouth away from the wolf's ear. "There you go," he said to her. "He knows he is your protector now. He knows you are his equal." 

Niphrediel smiled broadly.   

Legolas frowned, turning to the wolf. _"Mani ume lle quena?" _*What did you say?*

Niphrediel waited as Legolas listened to whatever the wolf said.

Legolas smiled when it seemed the wolf had finished its comment, and turned back to Niphrediel. "He says he will fight till his death for you, but that he also desires a name." He said with a small grin.

Niphrediel smiled and put her head against her knees, deep in thought. "Beren." She answered.

Legolas raised his eyebrow and repeated the word to the wolf.

Legolas waited a moment before turning back to Niphrediel. "He likes it. It is better then what I named him."

Niphrediel frowned. "He is yours? If he is yours I cannot take him. He is your own. I cannot take him away from his master. I will be no pet-napper." She said.

Legolas shook his head. "I trained him, yes, but I have three others waiting at home for me. Dar—Beren is the best, which is what I am giving. Do not bother to tell me not, it is already done."

Niphrediel could only smile in thanks. 

Beren licked Legolas's cheek, surprising him.

Legolas groaned, wiping his cheek. "Yes, thankyou, Beren." He said.

Niphrediel stared at the perfection and softness of Beren's pelt. She ached to brush her hand against it, but would not bring herself to do it.

Legolas laughed. "Young one, Beren will not_ ever_ hurt you." He took her hand and guided it to Beren's neck.

His pelt felt like the softest fur. It was beautiful.

Beren walked to her, too quickly, pushing her over.

Niphrediel fell onto her back and laughed.

Legolas patted Beren's head with one hand as he stood, and offered his other to Niphrediel who remained laughing on the floor.

Niphrediel's laughter came short and she took Legolas's hand and he slowly pulled her up easily.

She took a deep breath. "Thankyou so much, my lord. No one has ever given me anything so beautiful before."

Legolas shook his head. "I nearly killed you, there is no gift I could give that could make up for that."

Niphrediel lowered her gaze. "Perhaps, my lord, but nevertheless, thankyou."

Legolas smiled. "That is quite fine, child. At least now you have two brother's to watch over you; Beren and Aragorn."

Niphrediel laughed. 

Legolas sighed. "Beren will follow basically every instruction you give him, he is no stranger to orcs or any such fiend, and he is very obedient. I promise he will protect you always." He bowed and slowly walked away to the staircase.

He paused, and turned back around. "Milady, if I may be honoured, may I ask why your skin reacted so? It is my one question, then I will leave you be."

Niphrediel looked down. "I am . . . . . ." Niphrediel thought of a way she could put it without him giving pity. "Let us just say that I burn easily."

Legolas beamed. "Very well. _Quel du_." *Goodnight*

Niphrediel nodded. "_Quel esta_." *Rest well* If he was no elf, he would not have heard her quiet voice.

Legolas bowed his head, and walked away.

Niphrediel looked down at Beren. "Well come along, Beren. I hope you are hungry." She turned and opened the door to the kitchen.

 "A pet? Isn't that extravagant?" 

Niphrediel lay on a quilt under the soft, dry green grass in the garden looking up at the stars. Beren lay his head on her stomach, her fingers curled in the pelt of his neck. "Do not be so glum, Glorfindel."

Glorfindel sighed. "Well, that _is_ Legolas for you; he was very angry at himself for harming you. You better have been grateful!" He growled.

"I was." She defended, eyes widened to show her innocence. 

Glorfindel nodded. "Good. The night is at its later hours, Nieninquë. You should go inside now."

Niphrediel got up and folded the quilt and walked inside to her room, where she would sleep the daylight away.


	5. Chapter four: The Demon in the Water

**Chapter four: The Demon in the Water**

*****

*****

*****

_November 23rd_

Niphrediel stood in front of her mirror. Her face was darkened, even though it was daytime and there was just enough light in the room to reveal her. 

She wore her most grand dark red suite under her black cloak. Her hair was styled rather fancy also, her hair out but styled away from her face in random braids and a small butterfly clip was put in the top of the small centre plait at the back of her head.

Niphrediel put on her leather riding gloves and looked down seeing Beren looking up at her as she strapped two daggers to leather straps around her upper thighs. They were there just in case.

She smiled. "Let's hope there is a good reason I am making this choice, Beren, else I am lost." She mumbled and turned, walking out of her room with Beren beside her.

She put on her hood and ran to Elrond's study.

All the windows had been shut apart from the balcony, but that was all right.

Niphrediel took off her hood when she shut the door behind her.

Aragorn, Glorfindel, Elrond, Mioniel and Mithrandir stood, waiting for her.

Niphrediel smiled, nodding at them all.

Elrond stepped foreword, holding out a small vial. "Take one drop of this and swallow it at any hour as long as it is no more then ten hours before the sunrise. It shall take away its affects, but it may have an affect on your energy level."

Niphrediel smiled and took it, putting it in a pocket of her belt. "Thankyou." She said, and turned her gaze to her brother.

Aragorn stepped forward and smiled. 

This was to be the last time she would see him in a while, for he was off to begin his own quest tomorrow.

Niphrediel smiled, put some tears builded in her eyes as she walked up to him and hugged him, her arms around his neck tightly.

Aragorn sighed, and tightened his hold around Niphrediel. 

_"Tira ten' rashwe." _She whispered. "Please be careful. What kind of sister can I be without a sibling?"

Aragorn took a deep, calm breath. "I will not get hurt, _muinthel_, I love you too much."

_"Amin mela lle." _Niphrediel whispered, before letting him go.

Aragorn put his fist against his heart, saying all that needed to be said.

Niphrediel turned to Mioniel. "Are you certain that these 'answers' are important enough for me to have to journey to Lothlorien?" She asked.

Mioniel rubbed her arm. "My dear, you have to go. Do not think it so horrible, you have been to Lothlorien once before but I doubt you can properly remember it seeing as you were so young, so think of it as just a little trip."

Niphrediel kissed the air beside Mioniel's cheek, before moving on to Glorfindel.

Glorfindel sighed. "My how I will miss you, regardless of the time you spend away."

Niphrediel smiled and hugged him tightly. 

"Oh how I wish you were an Elvan maiden, my friend, I would have given you my heart for sure." Glorfindel laughed.

-"Not if I had anything to do with it," added Aragorn, quietly.

Niphrediel smiled and sadly parted with him.

Gandalf smiled. "Have a safe journey, my dear."

Niphrediel nodded. "And you also, grey one. Take care of your hobbit." She gave Gandalf a hug, before going back to Elrond. 

Elrond sighed deeply. "Remember that regardless of what you will find out, we all still love you, understand?" His face was firm.

Niphrediel nodded slowly. "Yes, mi"-

Elrond raised an eyebrow. "Niphrediel, you thought I was your birthfather until you were told the truth when you were five. Just because you or Aragorn were not borne from me does not mean that you mean any less. You must remember that there is more to being family then blood."

Niphrediel nodded. "Yes, _adar_." *Father*. It was no strange to say the word; Niphrediel had not called him that for so long. 

Elrond stepped forward and hugged Niphrediel. "Be careful, daughter, remember to always follow your intuition if you ever get lost."

Niphrediel nodded and stepped back. 

Aragorn walked up to her, "Take this," he said, and took out a small gold whistle on a gold chain. "Encase you're in trouble. It's special, regardless of how loud you blow it orcs, goblins or trolls or any other creature of sorts will never be able to hear it. Enchanted, it is."

Niphrediel smiled, putting the chain over her head. The whistle was pretty, looking more like a thick pipe.

She looked at all the people. "Well, I shall see you all in no time." She looked at Aragorn, smiling one last time before putting on her hood and walking out.

Her escorts were Avornir and Elystir, both as kind as they were fair.

Niphrediel ran outside where Draconic was waiting. He was ready to go.

Niphrediel was given her bow that she strapped on her back beside her full quiver of silver arrows and her sword, which she strapped at the knee of her saddle.

Niphrediel hopped up onto the horse and turned around and looked to the balcony of Elrond's study where Aragorn and Glorfindel stood, watching her with sad smiles.

Niphrediel waved, looking down at Beren beside her when Avornir and Elystir began to leave, calling her name out for her to follow.

Niphrediel sighed and put her hands on Draconic's reigns. "Come on, Beren." She said, and made Draconic ride up to Avornir and Elystir, Beren following beside her.

They travelled so many days Niphrediel no longer counted.

They were to go either under or over Caradhras. Niphrediel, of course, agreed with Elystir to go through Moria, whereas Avornir demanded to go over Caradhras.

Niphrediel sat on a rock; the sun was setting behind her.

She wanted a bath; she wanted to wash. Her hair was actually fine, but the wind had done its will and it was due for a good wash.

She wrote and read whenever she had time to spare, bringing 'The Nightingale' and a second copy of 'There and Back Again' that Bilbo Baggins, or Mister Baggins as Niphrediel called him respectfully, had copied for her when she first came across the book he was finishing. Bilbo, being the kind hearted fellow that he was, made her a copy of her own. 

There was too much time to think throughout the days, and it did not help that she worried herself ill thinking of Estel, nor was it good that all she could do during the riding days was think, read, write and think some more. 

The entries in her journal became pages of letters to those she missed. To her it seemed to be the only way she could let it all out of her system. Her leather-cased journal was a chronicle of everything and anything that she was experiencing, well and bad. She wrote in it whenever she possible could and it wasn't unusual for days to go by between entries throughout the days they journeyed unlike the days in Imladris when it almost religious for Niphrediel to write entries in it every night before she slept.

_Dear Aragorn,_

_I miss you so much._

_It is so great to travel, but you are not here as you promised you would the next time I would travel to Lothlorien. I have only been there once, you remember. I still remember you promising that, regardless that I was only three foot high and less then a quater of the age I am now._

_I pray you are all right; I comfort myself in the hopes that you will be here to wake me in the morning, brother. _

_We have travelled so many days I am afraid I am too lazy to keep count. My legs ache and my eyelids are heavy, but I cannot sleep._

_Beren watches over me, as Thranduilion promised he would. He watches over me as you do, which comforts me much. _

_He misses his home, and I think he also misses his master. That makes me sad, perhaps I should give him back to Legolas after this journey if I am ever to see him again. One cannot tell in such a time of evil, Legolas would probably return to his home after you accomplish your quest._

_My skin, I fear, is getting worse. It is horrible; it must be this freezing weather that worsens it. All it takes is a cold breeze and I fear my face begins to sting. I can bear it though._

_Avornir had a vision the night before last, and now agrees to go through Moria. He does not say what it is he saw, but I fear something is not right with the mountain. It is lucky you do not have to go near it._

_I miss you so much, we have never been apart this long since mother's passing, it is unusual for me and I hate it. _

_I do not feel safe. I can feel a thousand eyes peering at me through the day and night, which is why I regularly refuse to sleep. Oh how I wish I were an elf. _

_Something is not right, Estel, I feel it in my heart._

_I love you and please be careful._

_Love always,_

_Niphrédiel_

Niphrediel put the journal into her bag, where her three books were.

She lay down on her blanket, her head on the soft pelt of Beren's belly.

He never slept, he seemed to never need it, but he rested with her, his eyes always alert. He would look out for anything all throughout the night.

It was just another day. 

 "Go Draconic." Niphrediel whispered to her horse. "Go back to Rivendell." She took off Draconic's reigns, saddle, and Niphrediel's sleeping bag and backpack so there was no more weight on his back.

"Moria is no place for a horse." Elystir mumbled as Niphrediel watched Draconic walk back from the way they came. 

Niphrediel carried her sleeping bag and her backpack slowly to the tree beside the on the other side of the walls of Moria.

Niphrediel sat down against the tree and sighed helplessly. 

Beren came over and lay down atop of her to keep her warm, his head on her shoulder. 

Niphrediel hugged Beren, laying her head against his pelt, as she looked at Avornir who sat on a rock nearby looking at the beautiful door of Moria, rubbing his chin thinking of a way to go inside.

Niphrediel frowned, looking at the water. Something in there slept, Avornir and Elystir could see it as clear as day through the water, so they were as silent as they could be.

Niphrediel pulled her hood over her face and dropped a sour drop of the water from the small vial into her mouth to save her from the day to come.

The three had already eaten, now they were to think of how they were going to open the door. Avornir was very smart; he would find the way.

Elystir walked over with a smile and sat down beside Niphrediel. "This is taking much longer then it was meant to, isn't it?" He beamed, patting Beren's back. They all spoke in mellow voices, loud enough to hear, but quiet enough to not disturb.

Niphrediel nodded. "Aye. It will be such a mission for you two to go back to Rivendell."

Elystir pretended to shudder. "That it will, child, but do not worry about us. To not get to see the wonders of the world is to see life through a straw. It is just"-

"Another tale to tell your grandchildren." Niphrediel finished his sentence with a small smile.

Elystir laughed quietly. "I see I have bombarded your young mind with my favourite quote!" He smiled.

Niphrediel chuckled. "Aye, lord, but it is a good one."

Elystir nodded, but his head snapped around to something in the distance. Something that was not in the water.

Niphrediel frowned, sitting up. She saw that Avornir was now standing straight. "What is it?" She asked urgently as Elystir and Avornir took off their bags and put them on the ground, carrying only their swords and bows.

Avornir turned his fair face, his black hair shining blue. "Milady, promise us you will stay here, alright?"

Elystir nodded. "Aye, child, whatever happens do _not _move from this spot alright? No matter how long we take, do not leave."

Niphrediel's heart was beating hard, her fear penetrating all thoughts. "You are leaving me here?" She asked, standing up.

Elystir put a hand on her shoulder. "Niphrediel do not worry, we will be back soon. Beren will protect you."

Before Niphrediel said anything the two elves ran off into the shadows.

Niphrediel stood alone. It seemed as if the shadows crept closer now that they had gone and suddenly Niphrediel felt vulnerable.

Niphrediel's eyes darted to anything that moved. Ripples came from the water, but Niphrediel knew the creature inside was still asleep, it had only moved.

Niphrediel slid back down against the tree, drawing Beren close. He would protect her, but that did not stop her fear.

Something was wrong.

_Please let them come back. _She begged. She did not know what to do without them.

Despite such urgent thoughts, Niphrediel's eyes grew heavier and heavier with every passing minute, and before she could say anything, they closed. 

Her dreams were a blur of horrible creatures of Niphrediel's overactive imagination, that is, until the dream took a turn.

Niphrediel stood in a chair beside Aragorn. The sun was out, but it was all natural for Niphrediel to not wear her cloak. 

Her skin was healthily golden, which made her eyes stand out a little more.

She stared around at where she sat. She was on the end of a semicircle line of men. They all sat down. She and Estel were beside a couple elves, then the men of Gondor, dwarfs of the Lonely Mountain, elves of Mirkwood, then Gandalf and Frodo. 

Elrond sat on the grandest chair at the head of the semicircle with his advisors on either sides of him.

He stood and began to speak.

Niphrediel frowned. Everything Elrond said was muffled, as if underwater.

Niphrediel looked around. It felt as if water was the air, making her move slowly and her hair swim in the air. She frowned. She was the only one with the problem.

She stood, looking at all the men. They did not even see her.

Elrond was speaking, but Niphrediel could not hear. A man stood, and stepped up, speaking words it seemed only he believed in. He must have been wrong, for Niphrediel could see Aragorn interrupted.

The man scorned Aragorn, Niphrediel could see it in his face, and as soon as he did, Thranduilion, who sat with his kin behind the man of Gondor, stood.

Thranduilion spoke, his eyebrows drawn. Whatever he said, the man did not seem impressed. He looked at Aragorn, and said something, and then Thranduilion said something else, almost snapping at the man.

Niphrediel lip-read Aragorn's words. _"Havo dad, Legolas."_  

Thranduilion sat down, reluctantly after the man said something else, also returning to his seat. 

She looked at the stone pedestal in the centre of the council. There a ring was. 

Niphrediel frowned at it but did not do anything more, it made her shiver.  

She watched as a dwarf grabbed an axe and rushed to the pedestal, bringing the blade upon the ring.

Then everything froze. Niphrediel frowned, realising that time had not stopped; it was just going slowly. She watched as the blade was severed into small, sharp pieces by the still gold ring.

Then, time seemed to come back to normal.

Niphrediel tried her best to lip-read whatever Elrond said, but whatever it was that was said, it brought silence.

Niphrediel went to say something, but as soon as she did, the surroundings around her disappeared and she was in standing surrounded by endless water.

Niphrediel looked around her urgently, trying to figure out which direction was up, finding out that her head was facing the bottom, for bellow her feet she could see the brightness of the sun on the other side beaming down.

Niphrediel dived down, or rather up and kicked her way up, her lungs screaming for air.

She watched as the light came closer and closer.

_"Niphrediel stop daydreaming, you will get a headache." _She remembered her mother nagging.

_"Move your feet, keep your arm relaxed and bring your shoulder in when you punch." _Aragorn preached. 

_"The horse will **not** let you fall, Nieninquë." _Glorfindel promised.

_"My dear, stop frowning, you will get wrinkles and you'll look too grumpy for a young wife." _Mioniel advised.

Niphrediel gasped, awaking. It was dusk; the sun had already come and gone, the sunrise coming to it's end. She had slept that long? Beren was no longer on her; he was pacing on the rocky floor. 

Once the sunset came, Niphrediel no longer needed her cloak, so she took off the hood and stood up, stretching her legs.

Niphrediel looked around her. Avornir and Elystir were not back, and their bags were still in the same places. They had not come back.

Niphrediel felt a tear run down her cheek. They had fallen; there was no other conclusion.

"I should never have come here," she whispered. "This was perilous from the beginning."

Niphrediel made sure she still had all her weapons; she did, all on her back. 

Beren walked up to her, sniffing her hands, which is what he did when he was hungry.

Niphrediel nodded and walked to Elystir's bag, for he carried all the food, and got out the uncooked sausages, feeding them to Beren, and took the wheat cakes, bread and berries for herself.   

Niphrediel did not like the three foods together, but her selection was thin. Her only choice was to either wait here for anyone, or leave back for Rivendell on foot without enough supplies to last her the journey.

Niphrediel ate, and then sat back down against the tree. She sat and cried, bringing her hands to her hover around her eyes. What a predicament. 

Beren came over to her and looked up at her with his blue eyes that seemed more of a dark green in the moonlight.

"What should we do, Beren?" Niphrediel asked, quietly, for she could see soft ripples in the dark water. "I cannot make my way back alone."

Beren looked down.

"Don't worry," Niphrediel whispered to herself and Beren, "Someone will come." She nodded. "Yes, if we just stay and wait, someone will definitely come to get us." She stood up and began to pace. "We'll wait one day and night. If there is no hope we'll try to go back."

She went back to where she sat and took a drop of the tonic in the vial and forced herself to fall to sleep, pilling her hood back over.

It was going to be a slow day.

The next time Niphrediel awoke it was midday. She fed herself and Beren and spent the rest of the day writing.

_Dear Aragorn, Mioniel, Glorfindel and Ada,_

_I doubt you shall get this message but I pray I can delivery for it means I am in no harm._

_I have been waiting outside the walls of Moria for two days. _

_Last night I suspect Avornir and Elystir heard something in the distance and ran off to prevent it from coming any closer to our camp. I do not know, my ears are not as keen. _

_That was the last time I saw them._

_I doubt that I will make it back to Rivendell. I pray that I shall wonder off in the wrong direction and find myself in a town or camp of sorts so I can get some supplies and hire an escort who can lead me back to Rivendell._

_The only map we had was with Avornir, you see, which is why I would not be able to make it home._

_I am afraid and though I have slept many hours I am still dead-tired. I fear I need to catch up. The tonic is truly draining._

_I do not know why you sent me to Lorien but I hope I may be able to ask in person._

_I love you all and wish I were home. Hopefully soon I will be._

_If I do not return then I am lost somewhere in a small forest wondering around in circles or have taken a wrong turn and have suddenly found myself in Mordor._

_You all won't even get this, I just write it for comfort._

_In the morn Beren and I shall set off. _

_Well . . .so long my loved ones._

_Love always,_

_Niphrédiel._

Niphrediel read seven chapters of 'The Nightingale' before it was too dark to read the words. She noticed that there were more ripples in the water tonight; perhaps the creature was not having a good rest.

Niphrediel's hope plummeted when she saw the full moon in the sky. No one was coming. She should have left yesterday.

Niphrediel looked down with a sad sigh. She played with the whistle, wondering if the creature in the water wound be able to hear it. She put her legs up so her arms could rest on her knees and put head back against the tree, looking up at the moon.

It looked huge tonight, mostly because there were no stars to compete with its beauty. There were grey clouds here and there though.

_What if I die? What kind of way is this to die? How stupid. I never should have come. Damn this world to ruins! _

Something deep inside her told her to stay. Call it intuition, or useless hope, but it was strong enough to make her endeavour to keep herself there.

"Please help me, whatever force that brought me here in the first place do _not _give me an unjustified death." She prayed quietly.

She suddenly froze, hearing footsteps in the distance. She snapped her gaze to Beren, who had tensed up, his face now ferocious and he beared his teeth and growled. He was ready to fight.

Niphrediel jumped up, taking her bow and arrow from her back and ran beside Beren and crouched down, her back knee stabilizing her against the ground and drew her bow.

Niphrediel frowned in concentration, readying herself for the target to come in range.

Beren growl came short, and he straightened up again, his tongue hanging out happily.

Niphrediel lowered her bow and looked up into Beren's eyes. "Did you trick me?" She asked, as if Beren could answer.

Niphrediel heard again the sound of footsteps on small rocks and figures began to come into Niphrediel's sight.

Her lips parted in shock. They could not see her yet, her sight was better then theirs save one at night.

Niphrediel let out a long relieved breath, closing her eyes for a moment. "Thankyou Ilúvatar." She whispered.

She fell back, almost onto her back, sucking in relieved breath. 

There was hope.

_ThankyouIlúvatarthankyouIlúvatarthankyouIlúvatarthankyouIlúvatarthankyouIlúvatar. Thankyou merciful Ilúvatar._

The wizard, the four hobbits, the dwarf, the elf and the two men: The Fellowship.

Niphrediel smiled, her eyes filling up with tears of joy though they would not fall, as the fellowship came closer and closer.

Aragorn, who walked with Mithrandir in front, saw her first only because Gandalf looked at his feet. 

Niphrediel watched him frown and mouth her name. 

She basically leapt up and ran over to where he was and basically held him tightly.

"Niphrediel?" Aragorn asked in disbelief, he hugged her back tightly. "Hello, young one!_  Mankoi naa lle sinome?_"

Niphrediel sighed, letting him go. "We came here last night, Avornir and Elystir have not come back since. I feared I would be deserted."

Aragorn's frown grew. "They dared desert you?" Death shone in his eyes.

Niphrediel shook her head. "I fear something awful has happened to them, Aragorn. They would not have left me without reason."

Aragorn nodded. He put his hand on her shoulder. "Do not worry, _muinthel_. You are with us now."

Niphrediel gently squeezed the hand on her shoulder with a gentle smile, finally feeling safe, and walked to Mithrandir. 

Gandalf smiled. "You travelled on horses, child, how could you have made it here in later time? Don't you know the danger in these places?"

Niphrediel sighed. "We had to wait an hour after sunrise before we could head off. After a while I suppose that could have delayed us. Grey one, you expected us to get through the storm while you, yourselves, could not?"

Gandalf took in her answer and nodded, agreeing, and walked off with Aragorn.

Niphrediel noticed the four hobbits looking at her strangely. None of them had met her before. 

They were so adorable, innocent eyes and friendly smiles.

Niphrediel nodded. "Hello."

The ring bearer nodded back. "Hello." He replied.

Niphrediel smiled. "My name's Niphrediel, you may call me what you wish." She said softly.

The ring bearer smiled, though in amidst of his blue eyes Niphrediel knew he was cautious of her. In fear of her trying to take the ring, no doubt. "My name is Frodo Baggins, and these are my companions Samwise Gamgee, Peregrin Took and Meriadoc Brandybuck. You can call them just Sam, Merry and Pippin. You can just call me Frodo." 

The one named Pippin smiled. "Are you an elf?"

Legolas, who passed by beside him, chuckled quietly to himself.

Niphrediel did not answer; she just turned her head, indicating her un-pointy ears.

Sam raised his eyebrows. "You know Strider?" He must have thought her, a moment, a minx, judging by the knowing gleam in his eye.

Niphrediel chuckled. "Aye, he is family." She smiled. She watched as Sam's face brightened.

"You are Arathorn's daughter?" 

Niphrediel turned around to look into the eyes of a man of Gondor who had spoken. The one who had been one of the many in her dream. 

Niphrediel nodded "My name is Niphrediel."

The man bowed. "I am Boromir, son of the Steward of Gondor." He smiled. "Nice to meet you, child, let us hope you carry the strength of your bloodline." He said, before walking off. 

Niphrediel turned around, her eyes searching for Beren.

Beren stood beside his master as Gandalf searched around the gateway, which had not shown itself yet.

Niphrediel stood apart from the group as Aragorn and Sam unsaddled a brown pony.

"Moria is no place for a pony," said Aragorn, "Even one as brave as Bill."

Sam patted Bill the pony. "Bye-bye Bill."

"Go Bill, go." Ushered Estel, leading the pony away. He put his hand on Sam's shoulder as he watched the pony slowly leave. "Don't worry Sam, he knows the way home."

Niphrediel turned back to Gandalf, who was reading the gateway's writing to the hobbits, the dwarf, the elf and the man who were watching him.

Gandalf put his staff against a snowflake shaped design in the middle of the door and spoke a sentence in the language of the dwarfs, which was not a language Niphrediel could speak.

Niphrediel frowned when she saw Pippin throwing rocks into the water. She stepped forward, but Aragorn bet her to him. 

Aragorn took Pippin's collar, making Pippin look up at him in confusion. Aragorn looked wearily over the water. "Do _not_ disturb the water." He whispered.

Niphrediel crossed her arms and played with a stone beside her boot as she watched Gandalf sigh and walk up to the gateway, searching for something to press perhaps, and gently tested it by nudging it with his shoulder.

Niphrediel bit her lip and sat down against a rock, playing with her hands. This was going to take a while.

A dwarf stood in front of her, as straight as he could be. "Hello," he said, "Who are you?" He asked, straight to the point.

Niphrediel smiled. "I am Niphrediel, daughter of Arathorn."

The dwarf took this information in. "Oh, so you are related to Aragorn, eh?"

Niphrediel nodded. 

The dwarf seemed surprised. "Well, I am Gimli, son of Gloin. I hail from the Lonely Mountain." He said proudly.    

"Please, dwarf, be silent," said Legolas, standing against the tree, griping his bow at his chest with Beren sitting beside him, staring into the water. 

Gimli glared at the elf before stalking off to sit elsewhere.

Niphrediel grabbed her sack and rummaged through it, taking out all she did not need so the sack, though was already small, only carried a book and some food that she took from Avornir's bag. 

By then, most of the fellowship had settled down, waiting impatiently for Gandalf to open the blasted doors.

She put the bag on, and was grateful the weight was not much. She walked to the tree, crouching down and picked up 'The Nightingale'. 

Legolas moved out of the way for her, but once she put her book back, he went back to where he was.

Niphrediel followed his gaze into the water. "Something is in there." She said, putting her book in the bag securely.

Legolas nodded. "Aye. It stirs." He whispered.

Niphrediel turned, as the ring bearer Frodo stood, his stare on the door, but her eyes narrowed on strong ripples, waiting for the beast to come out but it didn't, so she looked back to the hobbit.

"It's a riddle. Speak friend and enter." Frodo repeated the words, looking to Gandalf who now sat on a rock. "What's the elvish word for friend?"

Niphrediel raised an eyebrow, folding her arms.

Gandalf frowned. "Mellon."

The doors opened reluctantly but immediately, and their passage was bared in darkness and shadow. Niphrediel could have seen inside it easily if she stared at it for a moment and allowed her eyes time to adjust, but something inside her told her not to.

Niphrediel frowned. 

Something felt strange. Something felt wrong. 

They all walked inside, Gimli in the lead. 

Gimli smiled as they all made their way inside, the hobbits more reluctant then even the elf.

Gimli's voice echoed throughout the black passageways. "Soon, Master Elf, you will enjoy the fabled hospitality of the dwarves! Roaring fires, malt beer, red meat off the bone! This, my friend, is the home of my cousin Balin. And they call it a mine. A MINE!"

Niphrediel, who walked close to her brother, holding back from just grabbing his arm and hiding her face in his shoulder, shuttered as she listened to the faint echoes. She wanted to tell the dwarf to be quiet, but before she did she watched Boromir as he looked down into something she could not force her eyes to focus upon as if they knew exactly what it was.

"This is no mine, it's a tomb."

Gimli ran inside, staring at the skeletons of his rotting kin. "No! No! **NO**!" He cried out, condemning the heavens.

Legolas, to Niphrediel's right, bent down and picked up something from a dead body he inspected. 

Her gaze focused immediately. It was an arrow.

Legolas took one look at it and looked to Aragorn. "Goblins." He hissed, throwing the arrow down and putting his arm back to his quiver for one of his own arrows.

As soon as he said the word, all had their weapons drawn, at least all that Niphrediel stood beside. She could not see the hobbits.

Niphrediel unsheathed her sword quickly. 

Boromir almost shook his head. "We make for the Gap of Rohan. We should never have come here. Now get out of here! Get out!!" He immediately turned, as did the others.

Niphrediel frowned, staring at the darkness. Her train of thought was only broken when she heard the screams of Frodo.

_"STRIDER!!"_

Niphrediel turned and ran out.

"Strider!" She heard Sam shout again.

She walked out, her eyes wide when she saw what beheld her as she put her sword back in its scabbard.

Frodo, taken by one of this creature's many tentacles, screamed as he was battered around like a rag doll. 

Aragorn and Boromir ran into the water, slicing all the tentacles within reach.

Niphrediel stared, her mouth parted in horror. She could hear the whizzing of Legolas's arrows that were being fired just beside her and she watched them land in the 'face' of the water creature. She heard it roar.

Niphrediel took one of the daggers from her boot and threw it. She was surprised she heard scream when the dagger hit, and it's movements stiffened for a moment.

The blade was horribly poisoned. Hopefully it would weaken the damp thing, but the affects that would cause it to die would not come for another five minutes.

Aragorn cut off the tentacle holding Frodo and Frodo fell down straight into the arms of Boromir.

"Into the mines!" Gandalf yelled.

Legolas tried to fire as many arrows he could as Niphrediel followed Gandalf's instructions and turned into the mines with the hobbits beside her.

She looked back, seeing the beast crawl up from the water and her eyes searched as Beren ran passed her, following Sam.

_Aragorn hurry!_

Aragorn, Boromir and Legolas ran in as quickly as they could and Aragorn grabbed hold of Niphrediel as he ran passed and carried her as he ran away as the beast caused the doors and roof to crumble down. It had blocked the way out.

Aragorn put Niphrediel down and Niphrediel took a relieved breath.

She looked around, blinding for a moment from the sudden darkness but her eyes adjusted within a couple seconds, but Gandalf blew onto his staff and a small light was lit from a crystal atop of it.

"We now have one choice," he said, beginning to walk in front with Legolas soon behind him. "We must face the long dark of Moria. Be on your guard. There are older and fouler things than orcs in the deep places of the world. Quietly now. It's a four-day journey to the other side. Let us hope that our presence may go unnoticed."

Niphrediel followed Aragorn; seeing as he was the most farer thing she could see ahead, accidentally tripping on a rock. 

 "Oh!" Boromir hissed to himself, catching Niphrediel before her face hit the point of a blade sticking up from the hearth. He settled her on her feet and gently patted her arm. "One must be careful, child." He smiled.

Niphrediel smiled. "Thankyou." She said gratefully. 

She liked Boromir, not romantically in the least; but she thought he was pleasant. He had done nothing for her to doubt her respect for him to be wrong. He was a man of Gondor, what stories of her heritage and culture she had not been told he must contain!         

Niphrediel followed Aragorn who followed whoever it was in front of him and so on and so on, in silence. Sometimes someone spoke, but it was all in a quiet voice.

Niphrediel did not truly understand why. If the beasts nearby had not woken by Gimli's exclamations then they must've been in a deep sleep so such silence wouldn't really be needed. But, even if they were aloud to speak, Niphrediel would not be one of the chatterers.

She never was.

The group walked for what seemed forever and found their first resting place before yet another bridge that led to yet another staircase. 

Niphrediel nearly collapsed against a boulder. Her legs felt like jelly from all the climbing. 

She wished she were a bird so all she had to do was fly out and never have to worry about petty activities like walking and stair-climbing ever again.

Niphrediel's eyes closed without warning and she fell into sleep in one of the most uncomfortable positions she could imagine but she was too exhausted to wake up and move herself. 

Niphrediel's eyes only opened once when Aragorn rested himself beside her and held her head as if she were an infant in his arms, and moved her legs down so they were long in front of her body. Again her old youth radiated, masking that she was younger then she truly was, as she slept against him.

Aragorn sighed tiredly. She _was _a child. It was to be a while before she called her anything but. The difference was only that she was not a _helpless_ child.

He yawned, got comfortable and fell to sleep himself as Legolas kept watch, sitting atop of the boulder staring into the darkness with his ever-alerted eyes.

_"Sam?"_

_"Yes Merry?"_

_"Do you have another apple?"_

_"No. You ate them all."_

_"No, it was Pippin."_

_"No! I didn't do it Sam."_

_"Silence the three of you. I demand you all to shush and sleep."_

_"Sorry Mr Frodo."_

_"That's okay, Sam, just go to sleep."_


	6. Chapter five: Eyes of Truth

**Chapter five: Eyes of Truth**

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**Note:** Elleth=female elf,                        Edhel=male elf

Dedicated to my cousin Rachael who I love and adore and of whom is more like a sister to me. I will miss you, Rach, and I hope Aussie will treat you kindly jub-jub :-P

I'm a review junkie and you're my dealer, make me high why don't ya? (Get it?) 

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It was yet day of walking up and down stairs and across long bridges.

Moria was in ruins, whatever was done here?

There was enough light that everyone could see everything clearly, but all was in great glum.

It stunk of death; perhaps only Niphrediel could smell it since no one complained about it.

They stopped only to eat and sleep, nothing more. 

Niphrediel did not need to use the tonic, where she was the sun could not shine. If Moria had been in it's once splendour perhaps she would have dreamed of staying there. It was appropriate for her to be underground in the earth. She would have been safe here.

They stopped at a small rocky clearing at a time where it seemed hunger had affected them all and Gandalf had thought it an appropriate sleeping place.

The hobbits and Aragorn prepared the food in the middle of the space quietly from the contents in Sam's bag.  

Gimli sat on a rock in one corner, his axe at his side and his head down in thought, Gandalf stood over Aragorn and the hobbits, watching them prepare the food, and Boromir sat against the wall, daydreaming, obviously tired. Legolas was somewhere else no doubt, with Beren.

Niphrediel sat on a smooth boulder against two walls, leaning back against one and pulled her legs up in comfort with 'The Nightingale' against her raised thighs with her hands holding the corners. 

Gandalf's staff leaned against the wall beside her, giving her much light to see the black words written on the white pages.

She mumbled the words as she read them, a habit both she had picked up from Estel.

"Lúthien wept long and bitterly as the moon passed over the skies and"-

"You enjoy that tale?"

Niphrediel slowly turned her head as Legolas stood, looking at her book. She looked slightly down at him from the rock, seeing Beren beside him. Legolas's bow was on his back, the first time it had been there in some time. It had usually been gripped against his chest or held by his hand at his side for most of the time spent here.

These were the first words he had spoken since yesterday, Niphrediel remembered. 

She was used to such behaviour; she was raised around reserved elves such as he. 

Niphrediel nodded once, closing the book. She tilted her head back against the wall behind her. "It is a favourite." She mumbled quietly.

Legolas held a hand for the book, of which Niphrediel slowly, yet not reluctantly, handed over. He flicked through it with a small smile and closed it when he had finished, giving it back to Niphrediel when he was done. "I see why." He said.

Niphrediel shook her head faintly. "No, whatever reason you are thinking, it isn't it." She said, smiling.

Legolas frowned. "It is not because of Ara"-

"No, if anything it is the opposite."

Legolas leaned back against the wall that cornered from the one Niphrediel rested against. "Explain." He urged.

Niphrediel bit her lip, looking at Aragorn. "I can not say, you would tell"-

"I swear on my heart I will not utter a word you wish me not to." He promised.

Niphrediel turned her head so she could see him. "You swear?"

Legolas nodded. "Of course." 

Niphrediel sighed, moving back to where she lounged before. "I am fascinated with it because I don't understand it."

Legolas frowned. "Continue. You don't understand . . . . .?"

Niphrediel frowned deeply, looking up. "Don't forget that love is something I'm not acquainted with so I don't know what kind of 'emotions' that would influence me." She warned.

Legolas nodded. "I will remember."

Niphrediel made sure there was no one that could hear her words. "If, by some magical means, I was an elf who was as beautiful as elves are, would live forever and all of those details I'm sure you already know of," Legolas smiled. "I cannot say that there would be anyone in this world that I would sacrifice all that for, regardless of how much I loved them." Niphrediel sighed, "And even if I did sacrifice everything, humans only live for a short amount of time. I hope I do not sound selfish"-

"You do not sound selfish, you sound honest." Legolas assured. "I cannot say that there is anyone I would give my immortality for." 

Niphrediel sighed, looking at the book. "It frustrates me that I do not understand, that's why I read it so much for I hope that if I read it, I may see something I didn't see before and will finally understand."

Legolas watched Gimli walk passed with a narrow stare. "Maybe one day you will."

Niphrediel shrugged, putting the book beside her. "Do not tell Aragorn, please."

"I already promised." Legolas said. 

Niphrediel smiled and nodded. "Thankyou."

Legolas bowed his head. "It is all right." He watched with a smile as Beren crawled up onto the boulder and sat down beside Niphrediel.

Niphrediel raised an eyebrow, looking at the wolf, and stroked it's crown. "He missed you," she said, turning her gaze back to the elf as she spoke.

Legolas looked at Beren with a sad smile and sighed slowly. "He is not used to the distance is all, that is because he is young. He is being taken care of well, he tells me, and you are a good master to him."

Niphrediel smiled, looking at Beren who looked into the darkness as if seeing things she could not. "He said that?"

"Aye." Legolas nodded, vaulting himself onto the boulder beside her effortlessly and sitting beside her against the stone on the other side. "It is a good thing you stayed outside Moria instead of leaving."

Niphrediel nodded. "I know." She patted Beren's neck before he jumped up and ran off towards the scent of the food. She sighed and took her sword off her back so she could relax more comfortably.

She fiddled with the hilt and noticed Legolas's hands, silently requesting, and allowed him to take it.

Legolas inspected the long sword. It was an obvious Rivendell style of design, much like Arwen's own. "It's lovely." He said, putting it down.

 Niphrediel looked at Legolas's quiver and smoothly took an arrow from it and took one of her own, comparing the two.

Legolas smiled, not alarmed.

Niphrediel smiled, flashing a look to him. "Want to see something?" She asked.

Legolas thought for a moment then slowly nodded. "Very well."

Niphrediel looked to the others, making sure Aragorn was not watching and then quickly tested each arrow to see which was sharper finding out, typically, that it was his, then put hers back in her quiver. "It's nothing amazing, just something I do when I'm bored." She flicked the arrow up on her hand so that the sharp tip balanced on the skin of the skin of the tip of her index finger. 

Legolas frowned, straightening in alarm. "Don't hurt yourself." He hissed quietly.

Niphrediel flicked the arrow up and caught it, smiling at him reassuringly as she held up her hand for him to see no wound. "I'm fine, I'm fine." She assured.

Legolas frowned, taking the arrow. "Aragorn would not like you doing such things, he is your brother."

Niphrediel frowned, lowering her gaze.

Legolas was content at her downcast reaction. "But he is not my brother, so I have my own permission." 

Niphrediel looked to him in surprise as Legolas balanced the tip of the arrow on his own finger. She frowned, pushing away so she sat opposite him to watch. "Be careful," she hissed. "I will be blamed if you're hurt."

Legolas smiled, suddenly seeming as if he were as young as she was, though it was very evident in his gaze that he older by at least a millennia. "That tables have turned." He mumbled, loud enough for her to hear.

Niphrediel watched the arrow stay still against his fair skin, anxiously waiting. "Alright, that is enough?" 

Legolas moved his finger when the arrow leant towards the left and grabbed it with his other before it scratched his skin. He put the arrow back in his quiver. "No harm done." He smiled.

Niphrediel nodded and sighed, looking around at the others still making dinner. "What made you join this quest?" She asked.

Legolas shrugged. "Different reasons." He answered, then looked to her. "Why were you travelling in this direction?"

Niphrediel moved back to where she sat between the wall and Legolas's shoulder and against another boulder. "I was meant to go to Lorien."

"I know that much, I mean why."

Niphrediel sighed. "I don't know. I doubt for a reason that I'll be happy about."

Legolas frowned. "You can tell?"

Niphrediel looked down. "Yes. Just in the way Lord Elrond looked at me when he told me to go. I can tell."

Legolas's eyebrows rose. "Well, I do hope it is settled quickly."

Niphrediel agreed and grabbed her bag, placing it against the rock where she once sat slightly beside Legolas and moved her body down. She put her head down upon the bag that, under the circumstances, felt reasonably soft under her heavy head.

Legolas raised an eyebrow, looking down. "Are you tired? You wish me to let you rest?"

Niphrediel shook her head lazily, her tiredness showing in her heavy lashes as they slowly lowered. "No, no." She assured, her voice drained and quiet. She closed her eyes and exhaled. "Keep talking. Elvish voices remind me of home. Good memories." She said, as she let out her breath.

Legolas frowned, looking around as he thought of something to talk about to himself. He caught sight of her book on her other side and reached over and picked it up, opening the thick leather cover to the first crisp page of elegant writing.

He raised his eyebrow to the suspicious-looking youth breathing calmly and silently with her hands comfortably on her stomach and eyes peacefully shut. "Hey, are you awake?" He whispered, so that he would not disturb if she weren't.

"Aha." Her voice was croaky as she answered as best she could. "Talk." She said as she yawned.

Legolas got comfortable against the rock against his back and took a deep breath as he began to read. 

Niphrediel woke up to the quiet, but startling, sound of one of the hobbits coughs. It gave her a slight fright, disturbing her uncomfortable and terribly light sleep.

She jumped upright, and looked around quickly seeing that there was no threat and that everyone was asleep. She took calming breaths, and leaned back against the wall in relief.

She rubbed the back of her aching tight neck as she yawned, settling herself down. She rubbed her forehead and looked at a small tail of hair that fell down her shoulder that looked suspiciously like a dreadlock. She rubbed the rough straw-like tress between her fingers knowing perfectly well it was too tangled for her too brush it straight. 

She frowned; wondering about the state the rest must've been in. She glared at the elf sleeping against the wall a little way beside her, his eyes open and blank as elvan sleeper's eyes are with straight blond hair she wanted to cut off and stick onto her own head. Niphrediel laughed at her slight envy of hair of all things, making sure she couldn't be heard even to herself.

She smiled and noticed her book half opened against the elf's sleeping chest, choosing not to move it since he'd probably wake up. She took her only spare dagger and cut off the dreadlock tress of hair as close to her scalp as she could, only taking a couple moments to do so when she could smell the scent of potatoes and sausages coming from the dim fire.

She looked at the dreadlock curiously for a moment before sneaking off the boulder and walking to the fire where she saw her tin plate kept warm from the fire. She smiled; thankful Aragorn had left her some, and took the plate away from the fire, onto a nearby rock.

There was already a clean fork on the plate so she didn't need to sneak into Aragorn's bag to snag one of his. 

She sliced a cube of the warm roasted potato with the side of her fork and put the piece in her mouth. The potato was bland, slightly left too long, but it was warm, and thus, it was eatable as long as she ignored the burnt edges.

Niphrediel, despite her remarks on the distaste of the food, ate every thing on the plate, feeling at peace afterwards. She eyed the darkened corner which led to the shallow well Gandalf had recommended as the lavatory. She pulled up the belt that secured her leggings, now considering that perhaps she shouldn't have eaten so much since sooner or later it would all have to 'come out'.

She grabbed a thick wooden brush out of her bag; surprised it was still there, and thoroughly brushed through her oily, tangled hair. Her hair felt reasonable though still smelt slightly like dog and felt like oiled straw, but it was untangled and more comfortable against her neck as it fell in a dull and lifeless array of hair down her back.  

She sighed, knowing that she'd need all the energy she could get, then slowly made her way back to her sleeping place. From the corner of the eye she saw a shadow jump, but she didn't think twice about it as she got into a more comfortable position with her head on top of her bag.

She dreamt of old memories, most of her, Aragorn and her mother together in a happier time and place. They were good memories, all ones she hoped never to forget. She was happy that she still remembered her mother's face, remembering faintly many years ago when she was a child that she studied her mother's lifeless face as she lay inside her coffin so that she would never forget any feature, blemish or wrinkle. 

"Niphrediel? Neph?"

Niphrediel grunted a couple times until she was hauled to her feet as she opened her tired eyes to bear the face of a cold, tired, grumpy, hungry, thirsty Aragorn. Despite his discomforts Estel managed to give his sister a small smile as he brushed the dust off her shoulders and her back lightly before returning back to the group of readied males.

Niphrediel quickly gathered her things quickly and jumped down from the boulder, rather ungracefully, slipping onto her back when she landed, her legs being too unstable to handle her weight before they had fully awoken. She grunted and stood up, dusting the dust from her behind before jogging carefully to the back of the group as Gandalf lead them on for another day of silence, walking and climbing.

Niphrediel frowned, noticing a blade sticking out of the side of the hard sole of her boot. She looked to her left side, seeing Boromir, and put a hand on his shoulder to steady herself as she reached down and plucked the blade from her boot.

 Boromir looked to his side immediately, a little startled when a hand callously came upon his shoulder, but his startled expression drained a way in a warm one when he saw Niphrediel. He watched her struggling to do her task, wobbling as her legs were still waking up, and grasped a small handful of material from the hip of her tunic to steady her and she immediately became balanced. 

She smiled in quiet thanks to Boromir when she succeeded in taking the blade out, taking her hand away, and he nodded with a polite smile before he began to move off again, passing Legolas and Gimli to walk near Merry and Pippin of whom, Niphrediel noticed, he had warmed to a great deal.

Niphrediel frowned; staring at the blade seeing that it was the tip of a barbaric arrow. She stared at it, her thoughts trailing as the sound of the groups footsteps treaded farther and farther away though she paid no heed to it. Minutes she spent just staring at it, unable to drag her thoughts or stare away and unmotivated to move.

She nearly jumped in fright when a hand came from her left, swiftly taking the blade from her occupation, breaking her daze it had created.

Legolas look at the arrow tip in distaste. "Poison…." He mumbled as if to himself, letting the arrow drop to the dusty hearth and looking to her. "Don't touch anything like this, if you accidentally cut yourself who knows what damage the poison would do." He turned his head to the distance, now silent, and cursed under his breath. 

Niphrediel frowned, rubbing her hand against the back of her tunic. "I'm sorry." She said, her tone anxious.

Legolas smiled, looking back at her. "Don't worry. Lo! Just run."

Niphrediel frowned. "Huh"-Legolas simply grabbed her hand and began to sprint along the path, dragging her along with him.

They found the others a short distance away, still moving. They had not noticed the absence of the elf and the only girl, though that was best. Niphrediel would have undoubtedly been scold from Estel for not keeping up and not paying attention. 

Niphrediel walked up the step stairs, behind Legolas, unconsciously wondering how dwarfs with such short legs could manage to step from one to the other. The stair was slopped, having to be climbed, and the stone surface was covered in slippery dust.

Niphrediel climbed the wall bellow Legolas so that she was free to climb at her own pace, as she slowly moved her gaze through the cave. She tried to imagine the cave bright and populated by dwarfs here and there laughing and mining. But, when she looked, all she could see was gloom.

Niphrediel could hear Merry above hiss out Pippin's name after she heard the sound of rocks slipping down a couple stairs; nothing of importance, Niphrediel doubted and paid it no heed. She climbed, beside Legolas's fast heels, and noticed that the edge of the stair was closing in as they got higher. It meant nothing since those above were still going so that meant there was no danger in the path they were taking. Niphrediel felt sorry for Boromir, having to cart around the big shield whilst doing something so unfit for someone carrying something of such size, but her mind had to stray back to her task for her to pay attention to where she put her hands and boots when she noticed she was trailing behind. 

Legolas glanced behind his shoulder momentarily, but looked back again when he noticed that Niphrediel was so far behind. He simply held out his hand, waiting for her to climb up like a patient parent urging their child to take a first step or say their first word. Legolas thought for a moment, as Niphrediel finally became close enough, she reminded him of his own sister. His sister and Niphrediel were not alike, just the way he thought of them were similar. Though, he had more patience with Niphrediel then Elil-Gadë since Niphrediel had the reason of young age and inexperience on her side. Elil-Gadë was only but ten years younger then he.

Niphrediel reached out her hand, her face palely flushed from her efforts of speeding up, and Legolas took her in his gentle hold by her wrist for there was a safer grip there, and pulled her up quickly to his side.

Niphrediel took a tired breath and thanked him with a nod as they began to climb, Niphrediel always seeming to reduce pace but Legolas always pulling her back up and helping her along. Legolas took the task of leading Niphrediel along upon himself only because he knew if he did not then Aragorn would have to, and he knew that it would be selfish of him to make Aragorn have to deal with Niphrediel at the same time as his own heavy steps and the weight on his back while he climbed. Climbing the stairs was like a light stroll for Legolas, unlike the rest of the company, and he did not mind having to help the child along to occupy himself and eventually, when Niphrediel became more familiar and quicker; they began to chatter since Niphrediel was fine on her own and was moving at a brisk enough pace that she was always inline with the elf and she was beginning to find the task less-tiring. 

Unfortunately, Niphrediel could not help herself and made a little joke over something Legolas was talking about, and Legolas hand to turn his mouth to his raised arm to muffle his bright laughter of which, from the muffled sounds Niphrediel could make out, could be matched in beauty to only some. Though it was muffled, the company still heard the sound and leered down at the girl, silently telling her to hush for the moment, not blaming Legolas since they would all know that he had only reacted to something she did. 

Of course, naturally, Niphrediel did not pay the warning any regard and she and Legolas continued to talk, though their topic came to a more serious subject to keep them from laughing.

Niphrediel frowned as they climbing, exchanging words. He was a lot like Glorfindel, which was probably why she felt more comfortable around him then she would usually be around someone she had known for the same amount of time. 

She missed Glorfindel. Oh she missed them all, she even missed Arwen, though she did not mean that to sound horrible but she usually enjoyed having Estel to herself like the old days when Arwen was nothing but a character from Elladan and Elrohir's childhood memories, when she stayed in Lothlorien, the land where her mother Celebrian originated from. 

Arwen…blood-daughter of Elrond, Lord of Imladris, and sister to two elves of whom loved Niphrediel and whom she loved dearly, and granddaughter of the legendary Galadriel and Celeborn, the Lord and Lady of Lothlorien. She was too perfect, without any fault. Niphrediel cursed. It would be so easy to hate her, but she was too perfect she seemed to be immune from the disease that is to be hated. Oh how simple Niphrediel's sanity would be if she could just hate…………but she could not. 

Arwen was not everything Niphrediel was not. Niphrediel had dark hair, too. Niphrediel was just as tall. Niphrediel did not have Arwen's physique but she could, too, wear clothing well. What Niphrediel did not have was the face that could bring tears to people's eyes and the aura that radiated off her body that seemed to slap Niphrediel in the face every time it passed. And, of course, Niphrediel was not an elf nor would she ever be. She could never be one of the most beautiful creatures in Middle Earth, which would just be horrendous. It would be too much to ask to be beautiful, would it not?

Niphrediel's jaw became tight, but she moved on, stopping her thoughts by whispering with Legolas once again though all she wanted to do was stop and jump a little to her left and fall into the alluring black abyss that called her name. Just a little to the left….

Niphrediel, of course, would never do such a thing. What would happen? Aragorn would grieve for a moment but remember that now he had nothing holding him back from sharing his life only with Arwen for the rest of the remainder of it (of course once his quest was finished and he was made king, then having permission to marry the breathtaking Evenstar). It would bring her no contempt, no one would cry or care—except for maybe Glorfindel and Ivanneth…. but they were elves; they would be used to the idea of seeing Niphrediel eventually dieing and them living to see another and then another day. But, also, she never could because she was not like that. She did not believe that committing the crime against her own body would bring her peace regardless of the circumstances. She could never hurt herself intentionally. Of course it was fun to pretend when she was angry, but in reality it would never happen and Niphrediel did know Aragorn loved her very much, but she did not know if he loved her more then how she loved him which was how he once did. 

She remembered when she was many years younger, when Gilraen had died. Estel had to change the way he acted around her, having to be become more of a parent then a sibling for that period of time because that was what Niphrediel needed. He used to say it was the best thing that had happened between them; it strengthened their bond. 

She remembered when he used to say goodnight to her, saying 'I love you' casually on the way out, and which she'd always counteract with 'I love you more'. She did it every single time just to here him say the same thing he always said every time single time she counteracted his words. He'd say, simply, every single time: _"Niphrediel, a parent loves his child more then the child could ever love the parent, so when the parent eventually falls the child can carry on; that it the way life is. And so, you will never love me as much as I love you, that would be impossible."_ And then he would smile at her, blow out the candle at the door, the one always left til last, and closed the door, though leaving it a couple centimetres ajar just in case Niphrediel needed him for something since the doors were too thick for Aragorn to hear her yelling his name through it when closed. 

Niphrediel recalled she used to have horrible dreams when she was a child ……always about a man with a dark cloak and horrible red eyes and sharp, long, demonic fingernails that left a long cut in her skin when he touched her check, her nightmare always ended with Niphrediel hearing the sound of a woman screaming out in pain, every single time. She would wake up screaming with tears rolling down her eyes, with Aragorn or Gilraen holding her. 

She frowned, remembering the differences in what the two said as they cradled her. Gilraen would kiss the crown of her head, and though Niphrediel didn't think Gilraen knew that she noticed, but Gilraen would always weep as she gently rocked Niphrediel from side to side like a baby. She would say, _"Do not fear, my love, the yucky man will never find you. He'll never find you I promise." _Whereas Aragorn would hold Niphrediel still, making her keep her eyes open and locked on his. _"Look at me," _He'd say. _"It was just a nightmare, Neph. It's not real. There is no yucky man, just calm down. I would never let no yucky man hurt you wether real or no." _Strangely enough, it was always Estel who got her calm. Not only because in Niphrediel's eyes he was the most strongest warrior in Middle Earth and could beat up anybody including the yucky man, but because of his antics. He told her that her dreams were fictitious, whereas Gilraen told her…well, something else. Her fears did not subside with Gilraen; she just stopped crying because she thought it would stop Gilraen from crying. It did.

Niphrediel relished the elf's company. Under different settings she would enjoy trying to make him laugh to get rid of his serious expression he seemed to wear so very often. 

Legolas, too, enjoyed the child's company. She seemed good-hearted enough, and laughing and smiling did not seem to be foreign to her, which was refreshing. Naturally, spending his time with someone so young made him feel the same, of which he enjoyed from his all-too-regular position of feeling much older then he truly was. 

It was quite obvious, though, that she was yet to fully mature—though she was not immature minded in the least, but her childhood innocence lingered within her eyes, of which Legolas was sure she tried to hide. She still saw through eyes of a child, the eyes of truth; innocent and naïve, but she hid it well, as Legolas noted, especially when she was around Aragorn. Yet, despite Niphrediel's attempts to veil those things, Legolas thought it strange that she did not mind being called a child. Perhaps she was not in such a rush to grow up as Legolas thought. But still, she was still young and yet to be exposed to the world as an adult. One day she would be, in a couple years or so as she would come of age, though Legolas instinctively knew it would not take so long for her.

Finally, the steep stairs came to a crossroad smaller ones that trailed in different directions; these stone stairs lower of step like the ones Niphrediel was more accustomed to.

She could just see the top of Gandalf's hat at the head of the line, leading the company through. Unfortunately she forgot to look to see where to put her foot, and tripped over a step, falling down with a loud thud but without a scream or hiss from her save a slight gasp. She could see Legolas had noticed the movement, and reflexively went to grab the back of her tunic, but he was not quick enough.

Niphrediel hissed in pain, a step hitting against her left breast, and regardless of the fact she was in the company of men, she instinctively put her hand to the inevitably bruising area, her eyes prickling with tears from the pain as she slowly stood up, not seeing Legolas's hand that he offered to help her up.

Aragorn, now in front of Legolas, stopped and looked back to his sister, also seeing her fall. "Are you alright, Neph?" He asked, casually, not realising that Niphrediel had actually been hurt but just asking out of courtesy.

Niphrediel just nodded, her head done so that Aragorn would not see her stupid tears, though her body produced them without her guidance as it was the way a female's body reacted when hurt in such vulnerable places, as a man would if kicked hard enough in the groin. 

Estel nodded, and turned around and continued going.

Because of his more acute eyesight, though, Legolas saw the ejaculating water shining in her eyes and gave her a pitying smile. "Are you alright?" He asked, gently and quietly, putting a gentle hand on the child's shoulder.

Niphrediel just nodded again, sniffing. 

Legolas raised an eyebrow, but stepped to his side and gently moved Niphrediel around so he was at the back of the line so he could watch where she stepped as well as she could.

The pain in her breasts slowly subsided, but Niphrediel knew she'd have to be careful of the tender part there for a couple days. 

Hours went by, and Niphrediel desperately had to go to the bathroom. Her bladder screamed and she clenched her fists to keep from ultimately wetting her pants and embarrassing herself horribly in front of her brother, the four hobbits, the wizard, the elf and the other human.

She prayed desperately for Gandalf to just stop, and her wish came true when he mumbled something when they came to stop where the stair ended and there were three archways leading to inevitably different places.

Gandalf did not know which direction to take. Grand!

The party settled down and Niphrediel stole away from them and searched for a suitable place to do her natural bidding.

The burning in her stomach was done and Niphrediel felt ultimately relieved as she returned, drying her hands with her flannel from the water and soup she used to clean her hands afterwards.

There was a couple stairs that lead to where the archways were and Gandalf sat with Frodo on a boulder there, looking from one passage to the next with his pipe in his mouth. Save Frodo, the rest of the fellowship sat or stood on the area bellow. Merry and Pippin sat together against a rock near Gimli, Aragorn and Boromir sat on the last steps and Legolas stood straight against the another boulder gripping his bow as he stared pensively to the ground with Beren at his side. Perhaps he was sleeping, recalling his strength, though he looked to Aragorn when he stood up and walked to him.

Estel sighed. "I ask a favour, edhel." He asked, tiredly.

Legolas raised his eyebrows in surprised response. "Of course," he said. "What is it that you favour of me?"

Aragorn sighed, again. "I do not have such keen eyesight, hearing nor energy and light-steps to be able to concentrate on this journey whilst having to look back over my shoulder every moment or so to make sure Nieninquë is well. I ask for you to watch over her for me, unless of course she is a burden of which I will take with thanks that you helped her along today. I am not always there nor do I have the skills to be able to watch over her at the same time as watching where I should walk or stand."

Legolas nodded, of course that would be what Estel would ask. Legolas sighed, pushing back his selfish thoughts nodded in answer to Aragorn. "Very well." He said. 

Aragorn nodded in thanks and settled back down on the stair, smoking his pipe once again, a weight lifted from his chest.

"Are we lost?" Pippin whispered.

"No." Merry answered back to him.

"I think we are." Pippin added, unable to keep it in, in turn getting a harsh 'shh' from Merry.

Niphrediel returned quietly, finding a place to sit alone since she didn't like the smell that surrounded Aragorn when he smoked his pipe, and leaned over against a small rock beside her, laying her arms on it and resting her head, relaxing for a moment. 

Gimli brought her a small loaf of bread and a slice of cheese and she ate it all hungrily, washing it down with the mead Gimli offered her from his flask afterwards. She saw Legolas shudder, disgusted, as she immediately brought the flask to her lips after whipping it clean with her sleeve, the flask of a dwarf who had also drunk from it. Gimli noticed the shudder, too, and glared at the elf, but turned back to Niphrediel with a friendly smile. Niphrediel nodded in thanks, handing back his flask, and the dwarf happily shrugged and treaded off. Niphrediel sat back, the sharp edges of her hunger carved smooth once again. 

"Merry?" Sought Pippin.

"Yeah?" Answered Merry.

"I'm hungry."

_No, not again, _Niphrediel groaned inside her mind. _That darn hobbit is always hungry!_

Niphrediel sighed, bringing her knees and thighs up against her, in a slight lean with her body against the rock. Niphrediel stared from one glum face to the next, hearing the conversation of Gandalf and Frodo being exchanged above her.

_"There's something down there." _Frodo whispered, as if to himself.

_"It is Gollum."_

Frodo's voice thinned in dark horror. _"Gollum?"_

Niphrediel could imagine Gandalf nodding. _"He's been following us for three days." _Mithrandir spoke as if it was amusing to him.

Niphrediel frowned, crawling over to the edge and looked down to the faces of what looked like hundreds of different stairs and walls. Her eyes searched, but she saw nothing.

Gollum? That was the creature that Estel had gone to Mirkwood to…….

Niphrediel frowned. What was the creature doing here?!

"He escaped the dungeons of Barad-Dur?" _Frodo let out, astonished._

Niphrediel took in a deep breath. That would be impossible, she thought. There would be no way that Gollum could have…

_"Escaped. Or set loose." _Mithrandir said, and Niphrediel nodded. 

_Of course, _she thought. _The damned thing's a little spy._

Gandalf continued. _"He hates and loves the ring, as he hates and loves himself. He will never be rid of his need for it."_

Niphrediel stood up, straight and tall, looking down into the shadows bellow. If that pathetic creature came near her, she'd bring it to its justified end by the edge of her blade. _You best not show your face, demon, _she thought bitterly, glaring downwards.

_"It's a pity Bilbo didn't kill him when he had the chance." _Frodo spat.

Niphrediel turned around, looking at the look of disgust stained on his face like black paint on a white canvas. It was so evident.

Mithrandir looked to Frodo as if he was disappointed with him. "Pity?" He began, "It was pity that stayed Bilbo's hand. Many that live deserve death. Some that die deserve life. Can you give it to them, Frodo?"

Niphrediel's face softened and she looked to Frodo, who had downcast his bright blue orbs in shame of his harsh words.

Gandalf nodded. "Do not be too eager to deal out death in judgement. Even the very wise cannot see all ends. My heart tells me that Gollum has some part to play yet, for good or ill before this is over. The pity of Bilbo may rule the fate of the ring. When all this is over, the pity of Bilbo may rule the fate of the ring."

Frodo's face seemed to tear with sorrow and regret. "I wish the ring had never come to me. I wish none of this had happened." 

Already his burden was weighing against his shoulders. His journey had yet to begin and he was becoming weaker now? Niphrediel shook her head. No, of course Frodo wasn't weakened. He just did not want the responsibility. He did not want to be a hero, though it is those who do not intend to be that become ones.

Gandalf simply replied with. "So do all that come to see such times, but that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us. There are other forces at work in this world, Frodo, than the will of evil. Bilbo was meant to find this ring. In which case you were also 'meant' to have it. And that is an encouraging thought." He finished, with a comforting smile and nod.

Niphrediel smiled, feeling hope radiate from the wizard as he said the words, and watched as he slowly glanced and nodded to the left archway. "Ah-its that way." He said to all, and all the company's heads moved to look to the wizard who broke the quiet conversations spoken in short whispers to their ends.

Merry smiled. "He's remembered." He said in joy, and ultimate relief no doubt and the company quickly gathered their things onto their backs and walked up to where Gandalf was.

"No," Said Gandalf, "But the air does not sound so foul down here. If in doubt, Meriadoc, always follow your noise. Let us risk more light." He said, the stone crowned on his staff becoming brighter as he began to lead the company slowly through.

Aragorn walked over to Niphrediel just before they all set off, of which surprised her.

Niphrediel smiled. "Hail, brother." She whispered.

Aragorn nodded. "Do me a service, _muinthel_, and stay with the elf. He will watch over you for me so stay by his side." He said, and Niphrediel nodded, swallowing her slight disappointment that Estel would not go with her. Aragorn nodded, nudging her forward to get in line so she was between him and her alleged watcher.   

They began to walk down, and Niphrediel followed behind the elf since he was the only one who had enough patience to pick her up when she stumbled for the (what seemed) hundredth time that day, or night. She could not tell what time of day or perhaps night it was. She had neither moon nor sun to confirm her guess. 

The stench was indeed not as foul, Niphrediel noticed, and that comforted her much. Perhaps they would get out of this cave soon. Niphrediel hoped so, she longed to see the sky and smell fresh air, and though what she would miss being down in the caves was that she never had to worry about her hood. She could pretend she was normal down here.

Niphrediel huddled against the tall edhel in front of her to see over his shoulder to the wizard in the very front as he lead them out, out of the passageway into the unknown.


	7. Chapter six: The Raven that Can't Fly

**Chapter six: The Raven that Can't Fly**

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"Behold," Said Gandalf, "The Dwarf-city of Dwarrowdelf."

 Niphrediel gaped; jaw dropping as she set eyes upon the humongous shadowed structure. It was a large hallway that spanned as far as her eyes could see with two rows of huge pillars along the sides and its floor littered with dust and boulders. The aura that surrounded the place was what hit Niphrediel most. It stank of death, or desertion.

Perhaps Beren knew how Niphrediel felt, because he licked her gloved hands and rubbed his head against her. Niphrediel smiled down at her friend, and patted his neck as they moved along. Niphrediel half-guessed Beren would walk in front to walk with Legolas, but she was thankful when he did not, instead continued to walk beside her, seeming to not even consider moving away.

"There's an eye opener make no mistake." Said Sam, though Niphrediel was too dazed to listen properly.

The company moved on and began to walk in a group rather then a line lead by the wizard.

Niphrediel wandered along the right side, staring at the pillars and the shadows when it met the roof. She frowned, staring up into it, feeling as if the shadows had eyes that were staring back at her. 

In a twist of fate she felt a rock hit the top of her foot as she stepped, and gasped, looking down to watch the ground become closer as she tripped yet again.

This time, to her immense embarrassment, the company noticed. 

The hobbits surrounded her, asking her if she was all right and that she did not hurt herself with caring manners. Niphrediel even felt one pat her shoulder.

She groaned quietly, getting up slowly with Beren's worried stare upon her.

She looked down at herself, dust all on her front, and brushed it all off.

Aragorn looked to her, frowning. "That is what happens when you do not pay attention to where you step." He preached, his tone full with care. "Were you hurt?"

Niphrediel shook her head, and smiled down at the hobbits for their courtesy and walked to Legolas, who continued walking for a moment after she fell because he did not see it, with Beren trailing beside her. She was grateful at least one person did not notice her trip again, though she would have rather had Aragorn not see her be clumsy rather then Legolas. 

Niphrediel frowned; feeling more bruises beginning to taint her skin, this one on her stomach and one on her wrist._ Be more careful, Niphrediel, _she cursed inside her head, continuing to walk.

She frowned when she noticed a chamber on her right. Its doors were open and skeletons of orcs strewn inside it. Niphrediel could see the skeletons even from where she walked and heard Gimli gasp before running off in direction to it.

"Gimli!" Called Gandalf, but the dwarf paid him no heed.

Niphrediel frowned and jogged after the dwarf, hearing Legolas and Aragorn call her name out after her as she followed Gimli inside. She slowed down and watched Gimli walk to the stone coffin in the middle of the chamber and heard Beren silently trot in beside her.

"No! Oh, no." Gimli cried, dropping to his knees. "No."

Niphrediel looked over her shoulder watching the company walk in, as weary of the place as she was. She stepped in on Legolas's left beside as they all looked to at the words written on the stone coffin regardless if they could not understand it.

Niphrediel, though, looked to Gimli who kneeled at the side, her eyes apologetic and sad as they saw his tears. Her heart broke for the dwarf, bringing back the old memories of how she felt when Gilraen died. The pain that lasted for so long…she never wanted to feel it again. Not ever.

"'Here lies Balin, son of Fundin, Lord of Moria'." Mithrandir said, reading the headstone and sighed sadly. "He is dead then," He said regretfully. "It's as I feared."

Niphrediel watched Gimli sob, putting his head against the coffin and heard the quiet sound when his helmet knocked against the stone surface.

"We must move on," Said Legolas, to Aragorn beside him. "We cannot linger." Aragorn answered with a silent nod.

She only moved her gaze when she saw Mithrandir move over to the other side of the coffin and take off his hat, handing it and his staff to Pippin before he bent down and picked up a large, old book.

Gandalf stopped the pages from flicking and let out a long breath, making the dust fly so he could read the text easily.

Niphrediel frowned; looking back to the door to make sure nothing was coming. There was something about this spot that scared her. She continued to look in that direction as Gandalf read.

"_They have taken the bridge and the second hall_." He said.

Niphrediel frowned, surprised at the books contents and her face immediately turned in Gandalf's direction as she watched him read, her eyes wide and the fear inside screaming at any who looked at them. _"We have barred the gates but cannot hold them for long. The ground shakes. Drums, drums in the deep." _Niphrediel's breathing was becoming rugged, as the fear inside her seemed to take over. The way Gandalf read the words seemed to bring out the meaning of the words, it showed the darkness_. "We cannot get out. A Shadow moves in the dark. We cannot get out." _Niphrediel's lips parted slightly and she felt the dry skin disconnecting with the other as she let out a cold breath. Stop saying that, she screamed inside her head as Gandalf took a breath to speak again. All he said were three words spoken with cold finality. _"They are coming."_

Niphrediel let out a breath, but no sooner then when silence was brought was it taken away as a light thunder-like sound was heard in direction to the well in the corner. The sound thundered bellow the ground, echoing throughout the underground halls. 

Niphrediel's head (not to mention all of the other's too) wiped to the well, seeing Pippin standing there. It was then when Niphrediel watched as the skeleton chained by shackles to a chain that hung down the well was swallowed up, falling down and making a sound that seemed to boom like an invisible avalanche as it fell, echoing again and again and again.

Niphrediel felt herself whimper, seeing Aragorn lower his head, Legolas blinked and looked down and she heard Boromir let out a quivering breath. Niphrediel could feel her heart racing and her fear eating away inside of her, so strong she could almost feel physical pain banging inside her chest that made her want to scream.

She glared at the foolish hobbit, wanting to just throw him in the well at that very moment as he just dug the graves that they would all soon fill.

Gandalf closed the book, putting it down quickly and walked to the hobbit. "Fool of a Took!" He cursed. "Why don't you throw yourself in next time and rid us of your stupidity." He said, snatching his staff and hat from Peregrin's hands.

Niphrediel frowned, but then heard the sound that made her heart skip a beat. She heard drumming in the distance, seeming to become louder and louder as each second passed.

She stole a glance to the door, and heard sword chaff against its scabbard behind her, and she looked to Frodo staring at his blue blade, Sting, the blade Bilbo had in 'There and Back Again'. Because of that book Niphrediel knew exactly what the sign meant.

She could hear what sounded like beasts calling out to each other, or perhaps to them; their prey.

"Orcs!" Confirmed Legolas as the sounds came louder and faster.

Niphrediel watched Boromir run to the door and the other man and elf soon following.

"Get back!" Aragorn said to the hobbits before he moved off. "Stay with Gandalf." He then looked to Niphrediel. "You too." He said, and moved off.

"They have a cave troll." Said Boromir, making Niphrediel look in his direction as he shut the door, spotting the two arrows in the wood of the door near his head. Legolas picked up some weapons from the ground and throw them to Boromir and Aragorn who barred the doors with them as best they could.

Estel glanced at her, seeing she was still standing there. "Go with Gandalf." He said.

Niphrediel shook her head. "I can fight." She said.

Aragorn shook his head urgently. "This is no game, Niphrediel!" He growled, his voice louder then the drums. He gestured with his arms to the company. "I will not have you killed nor will I allow you to embarrass me once more"-

"Aragorn!" Shouted Legolas, making Estel stop and look to the elf to see his disapproving and livid expression upon his face. Aragorn seemed shocked to see anyone sticking up for his sister since that profession was usually only his and he silently regretted letting Niphrediel associate with the elf. 

Niphrediel felt her spirit tumble. _He was embarrassed of me? That was why he wanted me to stay with Legolas; he didn't want me to be his liability._

Estel turned back to Niphrediel, as time was running short. He went to say something else, noticing her eyes that seemed to show a storm of every emotion she felt focused directly into his, but was silenced when Niphrediel threw off her bag, throwing it in a corner where she hoped it would be safe before she spat on the ground of his feet with obvious symbolic meaning, not looking back to him as she swept off to the back of the chamber, seeming to walk to Gandalf until she stepped up onto a reasonable sized boulder and took out her bow, nocking an arrow from her quiver onto it.

Beren stood, once again, beside his master. His head was raised bearing his mouth of razor-sharp teeth and demonic canines and his body positioned ready to fight, his legs slightly bent in case he had to move or jump and his eyes watching the door with unfixed intensity. Niphrediel unconsciously prayed for the wolf's safety, but her attention was bought back to reality and the matters at hand for her to dwell on those thoughts.

"Let them come." Said Gimli, taking out his axe. "There is still one dwarf yet in Moria that still draws breath."

Niphrediel watched as the creatures on the other side of the door began to push against the doors, not yet being able to get through. Niphrediel knew they would, and pulled her arrow back till the string was tight.

Sooner rather then later the wood of the door began to be hit out from the demons, and Niphrediel watched Aragorn and Legolas aim their arrows at the gaps as the orcs had made as they continued to slam themselves against the doors, desperate to get inside.

_Mother, help me please. I don't want to die._

She watched Legolas let an arrow fly and heard the orc on the other side scream, quickly nocking another one after, then watched Aragorn do the same.

Soon after Aragorn served up another arrow, the doors collapsed and a mass of orcs came inside, screaming.

Niphrediel had no time to gasp and fired an arrow to one of the many monsters that came through, running toward the wizard and hobbits. She heard Gandalf yell out a war cry, soon accompanied by those of the hobbits as they unleashed themselves upon the crowd of beasts, blindly attacking them with as much skill as they had.

Niphrediel had no time to watch them as she continued to fire until her fourteen arrows were spent. 

Niphrediel stood, surprised she had not been noticed at this height and dropped her bow and unslung her quiver blindly, for she had no use for it now, and unsheathed her sword from her back.

Niphrediel jumped down, bringing her blade down on a nearby orc as she did so. 

She heard the flesh of it's shoulder rip as her blade came in contact with it and her arms felt tingly when the sword stiffened when it hit bone, unable to cut through. The force of it made Niphrediel fall onto her side when she landed, but she quickly stood and pulled her sword out of the orcs body.

She looked at the orc in revulsion, as it screamed in hate at her with black blood pouring out of its beastly mouth. Niphrediel walked closer to it, positioned her sword pointing directly down in front of her with her two hands tight on the hilt, and brought it down with her body, adding her weight onto the blow to make it more forceful, aimed at the centre of the orc's chest. She heard it let out strange sounds from its throat before it lay limp and she quickly pulled her blade out and ran amongst the floor, killing any orc that came near.

Niphrediel knew, though, that regardless of how well any of them were fighting, that the orcs had strength in numbers rather then skill. They seemed to drop like large, carnivore flees. 

Niphrediel stopped, in the middle of finding her next orc, when the ground underneath her feet began to shake. That was when she noticed how close she was to the door and looked through it, moving cautiously closer so that she could try to see what was coming.

Niphrediel frowned, not being able to see, and looked back down to the shaking ground that seemed to shake with more power every three seconds like slow footsteps. _They have a cave troll. _Niphrediel's eyes widened and she heard her name being called out behind her.

_"Niphrediel get away from the door!" _Legolas shouted as he slay any orcs that came near him.

Niphrediel's eyes widened and her lips parted before she turned around and began to run from the door. She counted her steps as she sprinted. One...two…three—BANG!

Niphrediel cried out in shock as the door behind her was knocked out, a rock flying out and hitting her in the back, making her fall down to the ground painfully before hitting her head on an already stationed rock on the way down. 

For a moment, Niphrediel blacked out, and was brought back to the world from the loud war cry of the cave troll. Her eyes widened and she felt a dark bruise on the edge of her temple and blood seeping from the corner of her mouth, yet the pain her head must had been feeling was drowned out by her urgency to survive.

Niphrediel pushed off the ground, onto her back and looked to the troll that had noticed her couple seconds after that. It screamed out again before it made its low, but huge step towards her.

Niphrediel let out a small cry before she scrambled to her feet, searching the ground for her sword before she planned to run from the troll.

Niphrediel did not take long before she noticed that her sword was laying a couple metres away from her, and she took off, not looking back yet feeling a brush of wind against her back as the troll brought its club down.

Niphrediel sprinted, dropping down to pick up her sword as she did so, not knowing that the troll was following her.

Niphrediel stopped for a moment, thinking that she was clear from it, taking a couple breaths, freezing when she heard the hobbits screaming for her to turn around. She did, turning back her head seeing she was only four feet from the brown garb of the troll's crotch. 

Her eyes trailed up from the garb till they saw the face of the troll towering over her.

Niphrediel let out a breath and gripped her sword. _Oh Eru, forgive me, _she thought as she looked to the troll's crotch and aimed her sword up with her right hand, and closed her eyes as she brought it in, putting her shoulder weight behind it.

The troll let out a blood-curdling scream as Niphrediel pulled her sword out with a distinctive crunching sound, as if it took him a while to realise what she had done, and Niphrediel sprinted away from it, this time succeeding in fleeing his attention as the troll, of whom had seemed to recovered from the pain of it's wound, began advancing on Gimli.

Niphrediel sighed, and climbed up onto a balcony above, seeing Legolas fire two arrows at once at the troll as it went to attack Gimli, giving Gimli enough time to scramble away.

Niphrediel frowned, looking around. There was not too many orcs left now, and the troll seemed to make the demons attack with more speed and confidence.

Niphrediel gasped then. _Beren! _

"Beren!" She called, her eyes wide as they searched the floors for his white fur. "Beren!" She jumped onto a rock, hoping she'd then have a better viewpoint, of which she did. "Beren!!" She screamed, tears forming in her dark eyes as her breathing became shallow. "Beren." She sobbed, silently.

Suddenly, her eyes stopped when she spotted something of light contrast in the shadowed corner where she had thrown her bag. The shadows were so dark in that corner that the wolf with its bright grey-white pelt seemed to camouflage into the darkness. The shadows here were powerful and black, reeking of evil. 

Niphrediel held onto her blood-wet sword and she sprinted over, skidding to a halt onto her knees beside the white-furred heap, her hold on her sword becoming limp and she allowed the sword to drop onto the hearth beside her with a slight clang.

Niphrediel looked over the body of the dirt-mattered wolf unmoving and unbreathing, her hands soon aiding her in the search as she parted his fur with her hands. "Where-Where is your wound?" She asked hurriedly, obviously to herself, her shaking fingers moving as quickly as she could possible make them as tears fell down her cheeks. Niphrediel stopped, a thought coming to mind, and retracted her hands and moved them under the wolf and turned it over.

Niphrediel took one look and lowered her head to Beren's neck, holding him in her arms as she callously forgot about her companions as they battled the cave troll in the real world.

Niphrediel moved back onto her bottom as she cradled the wolf, moving her legs up to secure him against her. Niphrediel felt Beren's blood seep into her sleeves, but she did not move.

She only moved when she heard screams. Moving her head to look over her shoulder, she focused her reddened eyes, seeing Merry and Pippin on the back of the troll, stabbing down with their swords and making it scream. She watched as the troll moved away from a corner and Legolas shuffled a little closer, aiming his arrow at the troll's noise. Niphrediel frowned, wondering why Legolas wasn't firing until Pippin cut the troll, making it throw back it's head and scream, and Legolas let his arrow go, shooting directly into the troll's mouth, immediately changing the sound of its scream upon impact. The troll wavered for a moment, looking at its murderers before falling down with a loud final thud. She watched Legolas and Gandalf let out a relieved sigh, looking down at the dead troll, before they all looked to the corner surrounded by rock, which was why Niphrediel could not see it.

From where she was, Niphrediel could hear chatter, though she could not depict what was being said until their change of topic changed.

"Where is Niphrediel?"_ Asked Aragorn, his eyes sweeping over the faces of the fellowship, seeing that none of theirs was hers. _

Niphrediel went to call out and say 'over here!' but changed her mind, instead burying her mouth against the warm pelt of Beren, smelling his dog-scent and not caring about it or what insects crawled around on his pelt. Let him dwell on it, she thought, her gaze unwavering as she watched. If Beren could not be seen in the shadows then there would be no way in Mordor that she would be distinguished amongst it, at least not straight away. 

Legolas and Gandalf looked around the balconies with their eyes, looking back to Estel with a helpless shrug.

"_Niphrediel!_" Yelled Aragorn; desperately searching the floors. _"Neph!!!" _He shouted; his voice booming and less poised then the exclamation before.

Niphrediel closed her eyes, cherishing the feeling that her presence was something significant, something she had never felt before.

"_Niphredil!" _That was definitely Legolas, and Niphrediel regretfully did not want to drag him along as well, since he seemed to be the only one who stuck up for her around here, but again she remain quiet.

_"Niphrediel!!" _Shouted Estel, "_Niphrediel! Oh dear Eru let her be well."_

Niphrediel opened her eyes, turning back over her shoulder seeing that they were all searching and scanning the place with their eyes. Legolas even used his bow to turn over dead bodies to make sure she was not under them.

Niphrediel sniffed, which was all an elf needed, and his head immediately whipped in her direction that looked almost scary. Niphrediel could see his pupils expanding, adjusting to the shadowed area and watched him lower his head and took a long, relieved breath.

_Uh oh. Now I've done it. _Niphrediel cursed, preparing herself for the biggest growling in her life to come waltzing by.

Legolas said nothing, to her relief and surprise. Instead, he just moved away from the corpses, half of which he probably created, and made his way over to her.

"Legolas?" Called Gandalf as Legolas began to walk away. 

"Where are you going?" Asked Boromir, but Legolas just looked over his shoulder in answer as he continued to walk.

_He does not see Beren, _Niphrediel realised and slowly turned her body around so that he saw the heap in her hands.

It looked as if she had hit him in the stomach, winding him. Colour momentarily drained from his face but the emotion left permanently which made him look cold and firm…so very un-Legolas.

He slowly crouched down, and the company slowly gathered around, finally seeing her like an off-colour thorn in a thorn bush of ripe green.

Niphrediel cried, holding on to the wolf as if for dear life. "He won't wake up." She whispered, as if her voice could not handle to be any louder.

Estel raced over lastly, and Niphrediel looked at him to see his eyes had rivered with tears that seemed to dissolve the moment he saw her. He closed his eyes and sighed, bringing his hands up to wipe his face.

Niphrediel looked away from his, for a moment to the ground before returning to the elf. "He isn't breathing." She whispered, placing him on the ground in front of him, making sure Beren lay with his wound up.

Niphrediel looked at the wound. It was a slash, deep rather then large, across Beren's side. It looked angry and fresh and had the ability to make Niphrediel want to vomit within three minutes of looking at it.

Legolas looked down at the heap, his love for the creature showing evidently unhidden within his gaze for a moment before it was wiped clean like a cold slate.

Legolas frowned, leaning over the wolf, lowering his ear near the wolf's mouth and closed his eyes for a moment, hoping that cutting of one sense would make his other stronger then it already was.

Niphrediel held her hands together and prayed, watching Legolas as he moved away from the wolf and took off his bag, probing through it quickly and taking out a red vile.

Legolas unscrewed the lid of the vile and moved back over to Beren and waved the open vile beneath his noise. 

Niphrediel frowned. "He is not dead, then?" She asked.

Legolas did not answer, and remained quiet, the overly stable and cold expression on his face reigning for what seemed forever, making Niphrediel's hopes dwindle, that is, until Legolas turned his gaze to her, his face brightening with a bright smile that made her frown, utterly confused.

"Huh?"-Niphrediel paid too much attention to the elf that she didn't notice the white wolf get up and move forward, until it knocked her over, licking her face and hovering his face in front of hers so he could reassure her that he was real.

Niphrediel's eyes widened, and she hugged the cursed wolf before Legolas quickly hauled her too her feet, making Beren get off her by speaking elvish words that Niphrediel did not catch.

Niphrediel sighed, feeling whole, and looked to Gandalf who checked all the readied faces of the group. "Quick," he said, "To the bridge of Khazad-dum!" He declared and ran through the doors with the company and wolf behind him.

Niphrediel went to run, then skidded to a halt, running back to grab her back.

"Quickly!" Shouted Legolas, who had waited for her despite his instincts to run and hope she was following.

"Uh ha!" Said Niphrediel as she put the bag on her back and sheathed her sword as quickly as she could, unfortunately not fast enough in the elf's standards as he ran to her, grabbed her wrist and took off through the door.

Niphrediel never thought she could run so quickly in her life as the edhel dragged her along merciless, until they had caught up with the company and were now racing just behind Mithrandir in the lead, or at least Legolas was nearly in-line with Gandalf, Niphrediel was behind him being dragged along like a rag doll panting as her knees began to weaken.

"Keep going." Whispered Legolas, turning back to her for a moment, when he felt her steps become heavier which made him have to pull harder.

Niphrediel nodded, pushing herself to keep on running, his words helping as she sped up to her previous speed, which helped him along.

"Jump!" Legolas said, and Niphrediel did as they leapt over a rock. 

Niphrediel looked back over her shoulder, amazed she didn't trip, but Legolas tugged on her arm, making her turn back to the front. She heard gentle panting, seeing Beren beside her, obviously running much slowly then he was accustomed to keep up with her. 

It was soon ere when Niphrediel could hear the chatter of what sounded like orcs. To her horror she saw them running in armies down the pillars and from the edges of the ground in black and brown mass of demons as they swarmed closer and closer like a disease.

The company stopped running, forming a circle as they surrounded them.

Niphrediel panted, slightly behind Legolas as he stood like a tower, his arrow nocked and moving from one orc to the next, ready to fire.

Niphrediel closed her eyes, not wanting to look at any of them as they spanned as far as Niphrediel could bring herself to see. She did not sheath her sword, but stood in front of Beren, her leg in the way of the wolf from any orc that dared look upon him.

There is no hope? Niphrediel questioned, of course not. They could not fight their way through all of them. There were too many. 

Niphrediel imagined one of them eating through her flesh, as the stories she had heard about what orcs sometimes do had said. She imagined two playing with each other, using her skull as a ball and her spine as a bat. These thoughts made her shudder, as she turned, seeing something bright in the corner of her eye.

For a moment, Niphrediel thought perhaps that Ilúvatar was coming to save them, as the orcs seemed to scream amongst each other in fear and quickly retreated, back under the ground or crawling up the pillars. 

Niphrediel looked in awe at the bright light at the other end of the hallway, hope and happiness flooding within her until she looked up to see Legolas, panting, slowly lowering his bow, his eyes glassy and fear showing within them. Niphrediel frowned, and turned to Boromir, who looked at the light with suspicion rather then fear. 

"What new devilry is this?" Boromir asked, catching his breath.

There was a moment before Mithrandir answered Boromir's question. "A Balrog," he said. "A demon of the ancient world. This foe is beyond any of you." The wizard turned around. "Run!"

The fellowship took off, running as fast as they could, and again Legolas grabbed Niphrediel's wrist and dragged her along as the end drew nearer and nearer.

Legolas waited only until moments before they walked through the end before he let go of Niphrediel's wrist, of which was probably starting to bruise from being held so tightly, though Niphrediel couldn't feel it.

Legolas sprinted through the archway, following Boromir, and Niphrediel caught up just in time to watch him grab Boromir and pull him back before he fell forward.

The company quickly made their way along the side. "Niphrediel." Legolas called, nodding for her to follow as he followed Boromir, but Niphrediel looked back over her shoulder seeing Gandalf's hesitation.

"Gandalf." Said Aragorn, pulling on the wizard's arm.

Gandalf put his arm on Estel's shoulder, looking into the depths of his eyes. "Let them on, Aragorn." He nodded to the distance. "The bridge is near."

Niphrediel turned her head, seeing the bridge dark against a backdrop that seemed almost red. She looked back only to see Gandalf push Aragorn away, against the wall, leaving Aragorn with a confused frown at the wizard as he spoke. "Do as I say!! Swords are no more use here!" Mithrandir looked at Niphrediel, and she took off down the path after Aragorn, the wizard following after.

The stone trail moved to a thin stone boardwalk held up by pillars falling into the darkness that spanned a short way until it came to stairs, then another boardwalk and more stairs. 

Niphrediel heard something up above her head and looked up, watching as mounds of stone began to fall, breaking bits of the bridges as they fell.

They stopped in the middle of a stair, and Niphrediel could see a reasonable broken gap in between the middle. The gap was large, but not un-jumpable. 

Legolas diligently jumped over to the other side and turned around. He looked down to the wolf and clapped. "Come on, boy." He said, and Beren jumped to the other side easily. Legolas then looked up and waved. "Gandalf." He said, and Gandalf made his way to the front of the line and jumped, Legolas helping him over and ready for the next ones.

Niphrediel turned her head, seeing that now she was standing beside Frodo. She said nothing and turned around, seeing Aragorn look up at her in front of her. 

"Jump with Frodo." He said, and Niphrediel just nodded, saying nothing more.

"Merry! Pippin!" Called Boromir, taking the hobbits with each hand and jumped over cleanly.

Aragorn bent over to pick up Gimli, but the dwarf held out his hand to stop him. "No body tosses a dwarf!" He declared, and jumped.

Niphrediel gasped as Gimli's feet slipped back when he landed, but Legolas grabbed hold of his beard before Gimli fell. 

"Not the beard!" Shouted Gimli, but Legolas pulled him up, with a little struggle.

Aragorn then picked up Sam. "Hold on." He said to the hobbit, and jumps.

Niphrediel frowned, hearing the stone begins to break away and gasped, grabbing Frodo by his shirt and throwing him as far up as she could and took a couple steps before leaping as the stairs broke away and fell.

Niphrediel scrambled up, feeling nothing supporting her legs for a moment, until she stood up, behind Frodo, looking to the others on the other side.

Her heart snapped. She was going to die. There was no hope. 

She looked at the faces of those on the other side. Lost of mirth, full of sorrow. They had been sent on a death-search, not a quest. The fate of this world rested on the shoulders of nine people. Nine. No army, no navy, no hope. 

A million thoughts seemed to go through her head through those four seconds of silence the separated group looked at the desolate two that called out with their eyes to be saved.

Niphrediel's train of thought was finally broken as a roar came from a distance behind them, making her turn back as the light and fire become stronger and closer, making more fall from above. 

Niphrediel watched the stone, watching it fall and hit the stair somewhere behind her, and heard Frodo let out a startled breath as the stone stairs they stood on began to sway, readying to collapse.

Niphrediel let out a breath and steadied herself, seeing the hobbit wobble in front of her and put an arm diagonally from his right shoulder down to the side of his arm, pressing him against her so that she could balance him. "Steady." She said to him, trying to hide her own horror by acting settled at the situation she was in.

"Hold on!" Shouted Aragorn, standing beside Legolas on the other side, watching the stair sway to their left, then to their right. "Lean forward!" He said, as the stair began to move back to centre.

Niphrediel nodded and leaned forward as best she could and slowly the stair began to fall forward towards the other. "Get ready to jump." She said to Frodo, as they came closer and closer and she moved her arm around him so she could throw him when they jumped.

Legolas stood, his arms out and ready to catch. "Come on!" She could hear him. "Now!" 

Niphrediel jumped, throwing Frodo up so that he jumped at the same height as her, to make it easier for Aragorn to catch him.

For a moment she thought she going to fall until she fell right, smack, immediately caught.

The company could not linger and continued on until that particular path came to an end.

Niphrediel followed Legolas, the one ahead of her, sometimes checking over her shoulder to see if the demon was closing in.

They ran, and she could see Gandalf had stopped; making everyone run passed him. "Over the bridge!" He shouted. "Fly!"

Niphrediel ran passed him, but stopped with the others who waited for him. Gandalf, turning around for a moment until he saw them all, knowing that they were waiting for him, before hesitantly moving on which brought movement back to them all.

They finally came upon the bridge. It was long, thin, and dangerous, but everyone began to run across it.

Niphrediel looked back to the wizard, seeing him hesitate again. "Come on, Gandalf." She said when she saw him look toward the light of the Balrog. 

Gandalf looked to her, then looked passed her, seeing that his hesitation had made her fall behind and began moving again, which made her hurry along in front of him and quickly became far ahead, to his relief.

Niphrediel frowned as she ran across the middle of the bridge, hearing the familiar sound of stone braking from above, slightly in front of her. She looked back at the wizard behind her, her carelessness cursing her as she tripped on a bit of upraised stone from the stone. She groaned in pain, rolling over and moved onto her back, looking up to see a small piece of rock fall directly onto her waiting left leg.

Niphrediel screamed, feeling her flesh speared through by a stone fang inside the rock.

The rock was about the size of a huge ball, and covered the whole lower shin/ankle area of her left leg. It was shaped in an upside down U shape, both ends of it on either side of her leg, and inside was a large, dark and deep blade that stuck down, now pierced through her leg.

Niphrediel cried out in pain as she tried to take the rock off, as Gandalf came closer. "Gandalf!" She yelled. "Help me!"

She did not have to say the words; Gandalf would have done so anyway. He frowned, looking over her wound, then over his shoulder at the Balrog that began to walk across the bridge, a whip of fire in its hand.

Gandalf stood, and walked away from Niphrediel, towards the Balrog, so that it there would be a distance from them and Niphrediel.

He held up his staff to the Balrog. "You cannot pass!" He shouted.

Niphrediel wept, looking to the other side of the bridge, seeing that everyone was already at the end, standing and waiting.

"Gandalf!" Screamed Frodo.

Niphrediel sat up and moved over onto her stomach with a scream against the ground, and tried to crawl across the bridge, only coming a couple centimetres before she had to stop, the weight of the rock too much for her to drag and the blade pulling against her flesh to be dragged along caused too much pain for her to bear.

"Aragorn!" She screamed; her pain and desperation clear within her voice. "Somebody please!" She could not bring herself to say 'save me', as she turned around to look at Gandalf.

Aragorn went to run back across the bridge to get her, but was stopped by Boromir. "Don't!" Boromir said, keeping him there. "It is perilous!!"

Gandalf stood tall and unmoving against the Balrog. "I am a servant of the Secret Fire, " He said. "Wielder of the flame of Anor! The dark fire will not avail you, flame of Udun!" Niphrediel had to lower her head when the light was too bright for her as the Balrog brought its power upon the wizard, making him unstable for a moment. "Go back to the Shadow!!" He shouted, and then lifted his staff held by two hands. "YOU SHALL NOT PASS!!!" He brought his staff down, and a great light was born from it, making the Balrog cower for a moment and Niphrediel lowered her head for a moment, her arms over the back of her head.

She looked back up and watched with amazement as the bridge began to fall, the Balrog falling with it. 

Niphrediel looked up and gave a smile of the wizard, and watched him sigh as he bent down to have another try at the rock on her leg. Her smile came short when she saw the whip of the Balrog in the air behind Mithrandir's unknowing back. "Gandalf!" She screamed, hearing her voice echoing as Gandalf frowned, turning back as the whip grabbed him around his ankle and dragged him some metres away till he was grabbing onto the edge of the bridge.

Niphrediel could here Boromir in the world behind her yelling at Frodo to not go and help Gandalf despite Frodo's screaming.

_"GANDALF!"_ She heard Frodo scream.

"Gandalf." She said, out of breath, which was why she could not shout, but Gandalf heard. "Hold on." She said, and began crawling to the edge, leaving a trail of blood behind her.

Niphrediel cried; trying to ignore the pain as her muscles just gave up, unmoving from her hips down. She reached out with her hand, stretching as far as she could.

Gandalf was so close. All he had to do was reach out as far as he could.

"Gandalf!" Niphrediel let out, feeling her fingers brush the velvety surface of his hand. "Reach." She said, stretching out.

Gandalf tried, when the leather-like material of Niphrediel's gloved fingers brushed against him, but only slipped down, further down the edge when he let go of his right hand to try and grab hers.

Niphrediel looked up at the wizard, only visible from the edge from his face and hands, that slipped has he slowly lost his grip. "Fly you fools!" He said to the fellowship, sneaking one last glance to the child. "Fly dear raven." He whispered to her with a farewell smile.

"No!" Niphrediel screamed, pushing herself up and reaching for his hand, but it was too late and she felt his hand brush her palm and the bottom of her fingers as he let go, slipping down. "Gandalf!" She called, knowing she would not receive any answer.

She cried, looking to the other side of the bride seeing orcs begin to come. She looked back. "Somebody! Please! ARAGORN!!" Why aren't you coming!!!!__

"Mother? Manke uma lye aut iire lye gurth?" *What happens when we die?* _Niphrediel could here her younger voice echoing inside her temples, remembering everything. "Aiya Niphrediel! Uuma dela yassen tanya. Coia naa faarea del ten' ereb." *Oh Niphrediel! Don't worry about that. Life is enough to worry about alone.*      _

Aragorn went to go, stopped by Boromir's spare arm. "No!" Boromir shouted, fearing for Aragorn's safety. "It is too dangerous!"

Aragorn glared at the man. "That is my sis"- He stopped when he saw Legolas run passed Boromir before he could stop him, and ran across the bridge.

"Run Legolas!" Shouted Aragorn as he watched. "Hurry!!"

Niphrediel saw hope as she saw the edhel run across, faster then she ever thought he could run. 

Legolas frowned, looking at the rock on her leg as he made it to her. "Oh Eru." He let out, seeing all the blood. He looked to Niphrediel with warning. "Prepare to scream." He said, getting a grip on the bottom of the rock. 

Niphrediel nodded and closed her eyes.

Legolas took a breath and began to lift the rock, immediately hearing the screaming of the child that made him all the more desperate to lift it as quickly as possible.

Niphrediel could slowly feel the blade slipping out, feeling more pain then when it went in. 

Legolas yelled out, as he pulled the rock off and let it drop over the edge. "Come on!" He ordered, getting Niphrediel up and putting an arm under hers so that he didn't have to pick her up and began to run, dragging Niphrediel along with him as the orcs on the other side of the bridge fired arrows he would be ashamed to shoot, as they did not hit nor scrap their retreating bodies.

"Aragorn!" Boromir yelled, carrying Frodo, to the other man as he waited till Legolas and the child ran passed him, before he made his own way through, dodging arrows as the weight of leading the fellowship on rested upon his shoulder. A responsibility he did not want to have, yet now did.

They ran out of the cave, into the early evening sky.

Legolas, running in front of her, noticed the sunlight, dim but still unmistakable, and pulled Niphrediel's hood on as they raced into the light, Aragorn following behind them.

Once Legolas ran to a stop, he let go of Niphrediel, his arm simply becoming limp who slowly moved down to sit in a heap on the rocky surface bellow.

Niphrediel held herself up, her arms suddenly giving way like jelly, having to lean forward. She couldn't feel the pain on her leg; it was totally numb. Niphrediel rubbed her hand along her the side of her left legging, while sobbing, to make with that the tear on it still covered the bleeding flesh underneath.

Niphrediel frowned, feeling her breathing become coarse and brought her arms around her knees and cried. 

She was _so_ close. All he had to do was just……..Niphrediel let out a small cry in agony and frustration. ALL HE HAD TO DO WAS TAKE MY HAND!!!

"Curse you, Gandalf!" She hissed, bringing her hood closer strategically shading her pale, tear-stricken face and stared at the people around her.

All was silent, save the sound of Pippin and Merry's sobs. Sam cried silently sitting on a rock, Boromir held Gimli, who cried as he looked back at the cave, Legolas, of whom had wandered away from her after putting her down, looked down with a total lost expression on his face and Aragorn had her backs turned to her so she could not see their faces

It seemed at eternity as the sound of weeping continued until it was finally broken.

"Legolas," Said Aragorn. "Get them up."

Legolas shuffled at Estel's words, his face stinging in distaste to move.

Boromir glared at Aragorn, a tear falling from his left eye. "Give them a moment, for pity's sake!" He exclaimed.

"By nightfall these hills will be swarming with Orcs!" Shouted Aragorn with a wave of his hand. "We must reach the woods of Lothlorien. Come Boromir. Legolas, Gimli, get them up."

Niphrediel watched Legolas hesitantly walk to Merry and put his hand on his shoulder, telling him soft words to boast his moral as best he could. Her eyes switched to Aragorn as he lifted Sam up. 

"On your feet, Sam." Aragorn said, with a pat on Sam's shoulder before he lifted his head and scanned the crowd. "Frodo?" He called, spotting him a small distance from them. "Frodo!!" He called again, which made Frodo stop walking away.

Niphrediel felt her eyes sting as more tears seemed to fill them as the ring-bearer turned around, staring at Estel with nothing but misery showing in his once-spirited eyes as a tear fell down his cheek like a large raindrop.

"Aragorn?"

Aragorn was torn from his train of thought and his apologetic stare on the hobbit was broken as his attention swerved at the sound of his name. He turned his head back, looking Legolas behind him. "Yes…Legolas?" He said, taking his time in between the words.

Legolas took more steps closer to the human. He slowly lowered his head, directing his voice downwards so that only Estel could hear him. "_Niphrediel awra atse'_." He said.

Aragorn frowned. "Where? I did not see." He asked, looking to his sister holding her head through her hood.

Legolas turned. "Her leg. She wont be able to walk on it"-

"We mustn't check it," Snapped Aragorn, as if someone was about to. "At least not in this light."

Legolas nodded and moved off, as Aragorn walked passed in direction to Niphrediel.

Niphrediel watched him coming closer from the corner of her eye, too exhausted to move.

He stopped at her side and checked her leg with her eyes, and she watched him shiver at how much blood there was. She could hear it dripping down her leg and onto the ground like a tap.

"Indeed, you wont be able to walk." Estel mumbled to himself, glancing at Boromir who appeared beside him, looking at Niphrediel's wound also. "We will have to hurry." Said Aragorn, and Boromir nodded to that.

Boromir gave Niphrediel a comforting smile, of which she had no energy to return.

Niphrediel frowned, watching as the world around her began to blur, black beginning to eat away at the colour from the outside in, as all she could do was take deep breathes.

_"Well, if the poor girl can't walk, and if someone will be generous enough to carry my shield, I'll be able to carry her on my back." _She could hear Boromir's voice, loud then slowly echoing as she felt her senses drift slowly away.

_Fly dear raven…fly._

Niphrediel let out a small groan, before she fell back in an unconscious heap.

_I can't fly…I can't fly……………….I can't.   _


	8. Chapter seven: The Secret Garden

**Chapter seven: The Secret Garden**

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Niphrediel opened her eyes to the sound of a flute playing in the near distance. 

She couldn't see where it was coming from or where she was but it was muffled, a reasonable distance away. If she was indoors then perhaps it was coming from outside her window, if there was one.

The numb feeling that contaminated her body began to slowly die away 

She slowly opened her eyes, blinded at first from the light shining within the room. 

She was indoors, as she had thought.

Niphrediel's sight adjusted and she saw she was staring up at the roof. "Hello?" She asked, her voice coarse from its misuse when she was screaming and shouting the many times the last time she was awake. She turned her head to the right, turning to see an elleth, a healer judging by her garb, crushing some herbs with a thick marble pestleagainst the bottom of the marble bowl in which the herbs lay inside on a silver desk a couple metres from the bed where Niphrediel lay.

The room she lay inside was bright and opened up by two walls on either sides of Niphrediel that was lined with silver French windows all opened with their lacy curtains hanging on the doors swaying in the soft breeze and large shelves hanging over the edge of the opened windows like bowls with a mixture of herbs, flowers, weeds and other assorted plants that could be used in healing. The wall opposite where Niphrediel lay was lined with silver-framed oil paintings and tapestries rich with colours against the pearl shade of the wall they hung upon with a large, wooden double door in the very centre with soft white stools on either side and there was a line of pillars two metres from the wall, spanning up twenty feet to the arched roof. Lastly was the wall the Niphrediel's plain white single bed was up against. The wall and the other opposite it were the longer two of the four walls and there were two other identical beds evenly and spaciously placed against the wall with a headstand and chair on each left side of each bed. There was lastly a large mirror in between two French windows on the left wall, of which reflection the identical wall opposite it, making the frame look empty save the shine radiating off the glass.

Niphrediel's eyes looked over the desk the elleth worked upon. The silver desk was large and long with all the tools a healer would need for making ointments and such placed strategically on it amongst bowls of seeds, crushed various weeds and two small china bowls of honey and sugar with silver spoons dipped in them ready to be used, and Niphrediel noticed a bowl of ripe and juicy lemons. Of course there was much Niphrediel didn't even bother trying to identify after she spotted the row of elegantly shaped glass carafes of assorted liquids. The elleth only seemed to occupy one end of the table, crushing herbs and seeds contently, whilst reading from a large book open on the table, the pages at its middle point.

The elleth was tall and fair without scars and without any signs of age. Her hair was a chestnut brown that cascaded like dark gold straight down her back down just passed her bottom. She was dressed in a simple white dress with lace embroidered into the rim of the rounded neckline and down her back. But, though, the most startling feature of the elleth was undoubtedly her lagoon blue eyes that looked like small glass windows that looked through to a pool of water on the other side.

Oh what a relief it was to see an elf that was not Legolas, of course Niphrediel meant that without any hard feelings.

Niphrediel sat up on her bed, making the healer look up from her work. She gave a modest smile, her eyes sparkling as if they had little stars within them that reminded Niphrediel so much of her naneth. "You have awoken!" She declared with a smile, putting the pestledown and standing up straighter, taking her left hand in her right as she smiled at Niphrediel.

Niphrediel nodded, looking about the room again. "Where I am I?" She asked, her voice husky and quiet. Niphrediel had strained her voice and knew that though it sounded as if her throat was phlegmy, no amount of coughing would help.

The elleth smiled, gesturing with a simple wave of her long hand. "You have reached the land of Lorien. You were brought here this morning." She said, and took a small carafe of what looked like water and picked up a silver cup before filling it up with the water to a point just before the middle. "What is your name?" She asked, making conversation as she worked.

Niphrediel contently stared, watching the healer move her hands around with confidence and familiarity to everything that was there as she edged slightly to the side and placed a lemon from the lemon bowl onto the wooden chopping board and cut it in half with a clean knife. 

"Niphrediel." She answered, watching the elleth squeeze juice out of the lemon halves into the cup. 

"My name is Maranwé." Said the healer, glancing at Niphrediel with a smile before she put a teaspoon of honey into the cup and Niphrediel watched the clump sink down to the bottom and Maranwé picked up a tiny container of what looked like white power and carefully put half a teaspoon of it into the cup and mixed it around. Niphrediel watched the honey blob at the bottom of the cup begin to dissolve making the water yellow, and Maranwé then began to make her way silently over to Niphrediel's bed and handed her the cup. 

 "Here," She said. "Drink this. It will help sooth your throat."

Niphrediel nodded, and took the cup in her hands and sculled it down, not having the patience to sip it as she watched Maranwé sit down on the side of the bed and slowly peeled back the covers to check on Niphrediel's leg.

Niphrediel quickly made sure the skirt of the nightie she was dressed in was pulled down just in time before Maranwé pulled the white covers back and gently guided Niphrediel's leg out of it so that she could see it properly.

She had been changed into a light cloth nightie with pretty, thick straps of entwined lace, but otherwise not much else that caught her eye. It was overly long, probably meant for someone much taller. It was pretty, though, and a modest girl's worst nightmare if she was wearing it and it began to rain. The only thing she wore that was hers was her silver whistle still hanging sturdily on the silver chain around her neck.

Niphrediel frowned, looking at her leg that she had totally forgotten about wounding. Her left leg was totally bandaged from her shin to her ankle and around her heel just to keep it in place. Her entire shin was layered in strips of white cloth placed over sponges buttered with ointment over leaves draped over her wounded flesh.

Maranwé smiled. "This ointment is the best of its kind. Your muscle tissue has healed abnormally well even with our treatment, though it's very tender. We cleansed all your wounds and scratches when you first came in, but I would suggest you taking another bath either tonight or in the morning." She said, taking Niphrediel's empty cup. "I would suggest not getting up, but if you do it would be best for you to not put too much weight on it, and by too much weight I only mean hopping on it and standing on one leg of course. I should think it would begin to hurt rather quickly if you did." She smiled then, and put the cup on a nearby end table on top of a silver tray to make it more convenient to be carried away by the maid that would eventually come. 

Maranwé seemed to hesitate to return to her work at the table, instead turning back to look at her. "I think I will leave you alone for now," She said. "And allow you to look around, as I am sure you would like to see your friends. I shall be back to check your wound and change the dressing, until then, namarië." She said, turning around, but turned back around when something came to mind. "Actually, I shall give you something to do, if you are up to it. There is an orchid to the south of the gardens; quite beautiful, they are, and there are little pink blossoms on the trees. If you have time, pick about twenty blossoms and bring them back to me at the end of the day so I can make a paste for your leg to clean it. Do not worry if you do not get up to it, I'll do it myself later." She curtsied and made her way out the door silently. 

She was graceful, even for an elf. Her steps went placidly as if she could walk on clouds. Niphrediel giggled. She probably could!

Niphrediel smiled and waited until the door was closed before she swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up. It was surprisingly easy; Niphrediel must have been given something for the pain, as her leg was numb to the touch, yet it could still be walked upon as if there had been no harm done as long as she kept a reasonable pace and took shorter steps. She did not have to limb, which was a surprise.

Lorien must have had different herbs to create such grand effects so quickly.

Niphrediel stood up and walked to the mirror; anxious to see what mess she had turned herself into this time. She remembered absently that she had been washed, so she took away her visions of dirt and skin stains from the picture she was expecting to see.

The bruise received to her head…. wow, it was **dark**. Luckily, there were no red patches so it would hopefully fade a little quicker, and the darker part of the bruise was concealed by her hairline. Her arms received little cuts only from her elbow down that now were only thin strips of dried blood, so all was well, and the bruises were already fading. Her chest, though, was clear; except that the bruise on her breast was so large the neckline of the nightie wasn't high enough to cover the fading edges of it at the top. Her premonitions of the result of having Legolas drag her along through Moria were proven to be correct, confirmed by the light, but obvious, bruising around her left wrist. Her hair, though, was washed and fell straight back down her back. Niphrediel felt like cheering when she smelt a tress, confirming she no longer stunk of dog but a jasmine-based soap of sorts. 

Niphrediel looked beaten up, though, to any whom she would pass that did know how worse she could have come out looking. 

Niphrediel frowned, thinking for a moment and put up a hand and smelt her breath. Her teeth had been brushed too, very convenient if not very uncomfortable. 

Niphrediel frowned at her arms as she took a couple steps back to see if the scratches were obvious from the little distance, again the vain side of her influenced by Gilraen and Ivanneth came out to say hello. 

Niphrediel sighed, giving up in frustration. "It doesn't matter!" She moaned to herself, frustrated for caring. "You're surrounded by elves, they can see everything!" 

But, despite herself, Niphrediel spread her hair around her shoulders and framing her face and such to make the dark fade out slightly. Though, of course, being as pale as she was, she could make a dull grey dress look bright.

Niphrediel shrugged and walked out of the infirmary, opening the door to behold the evening daylight—wait a minute, DAYLIGHT?!

Niphrediel gasped, readying for the burn, and when it did not come it made her frown. She looked up to the sky, the brightness tarnished to shine only between the leaves of the treetops. 

_So that's how! _Niphrediel thought and laughed. The trees prevent the sun from shinning down! Just like the willow tree she, Aragorn and Glorfindel ate lunch under in Imladris.

Niphrediel smiled, lifting her head to the sky and taking a big whiff of late-day outside-air, if there was such a thing.

Niphrediel then lowered her head, taking in the other things around her. She stood on a white, large porch that overlooked a small glade of grass bellow, three feet or so down. White, wooden steps were placed at the middle front of the porch leading to the grass bellow shrouded by beautiful flowers in full bloom.

Niphrediel then moved up, looking at the great trees based as the foundation of the city known as Caras Galadhon. The city was built like a silver haven amongst the trees assessable by walking across bridges to other trees and climbing up the silver staircases that wrapped around the trunk of the gigantic "plants". 

The trees themselves held more beauty then Niphredil imagined they would ever have. They were undoubtedly the largest trees in the entire world, with huge branches that reached out to embrace each off the other trees beside them. Perhaps they were all brothers and sisters, Niphrediel thought warmly. The trees were clothed in silver bark that seemed to make the trees look almost man-made if not for the lovely golden leaves that bloomed without knowledge of any season springing from the branches obviously inartificial. 

Niphrediel slowly walked down the steps of the porch, one hand on the white railing to help her along with each step.

She finally began to walk upon the soft green grass, her bare feet hidden from view by the incredibly long nightie that gently dragged against the grass behind her.

Niphrediel frowned, looking down at the seemingly hundreds of yellow flowers around her, and picked one up, looking at it.

_So familiar, _she thought, taking in the sweet scent of the petals, opening her eyes to the sounds of voices dancing across her memory triggered by the all-too familiar smell.

_"Mother, what is your favourite flower?" _It was the childhood Neph. Niphrediel recognised her voice immediately.

_"A beautiful yellow flower, Nieninquë. It's called elanor." _Gilraen replied solemnly.

Niphrediel remembered when she asked that. She remembered how disappointed she was at Gilraen's answer. Her favourite flower was not supposed to be _elanor. _Gilraen's favourite flower was supposed to be the pale _niphredil_, the snowdrop. The snowdrop, not the sunstar.

Niphrediel remembered that she figured that Gilraen had just made a little error. Perhaps she had forgotten, she thought, and throughout a few years she asked the question repeatedly. Her heart became heavy every time Gilraen gave the same answer. Over and over and over: _'Elanor', 'Elanor', 'Elanor', 'Elanor'._

Ever since the beginning of Niphrediel damaged memory, Gilraen had carried the gentle scent of these flowers. Even in her tomb, the stone room contaminated by death was filled with the smell of these blossoms. Some memories Niphrediel wished not to remember.

The _elanor _was the flower of her mother. Bright, warm and beautiful. Perhaps Gilraen lived among the blossoms, helping them grow…. or perhaps not, though now that she thought about it, Gilraen's answer was possibly the better between it and the answer Niphrediel wanted.

Niphrediel slowly sat down, placing her legs beside her, and just stared at the flower in her hands. Naturally, she stopped when she felt tears coming to her eyes, not really wanting to go back to that again regardless how much Niphrediel knew she missed her mother.

Niphrediel took a deep breath, calming herself down, closing her eyes for a moment to help her eyes loose its watery moisture.

Her head turned at the sound of a bark and Niphrediel watched Beren running towards her from what looked like steps that were built into the earth, of which Niphrediel could not see, cutting off this small yard Niphrediel sat upon as if the yard, itself, was a porch with steps that lead somewhere downwards.

Niphrediel smiled at the wolf as he ran over, immediately snuggling down beside her, licking her hand as if he hadn't seen her in years.

Niphrediel looked down at him as he rested, daydreaming perhaps. Her hand drew away from the flower, letting it go, and Niphrediel watched the yellow blossom almost float to the ground as her hand moved into the clean neck of her four-legged friend. 

Beren's pelt seemed to shine like a white star. His eyes sparkled from within, radiating his happiness and rekindled joy that she had not been able to notice under the shadows of Moria's roof.

Niphrediel bent down and kissed Beren's neck, before she looked to where Beren had come from, seeing Estel slowly coming up. A frown came to her face. She had still not forgiven him on his words he had spoken in the cave, but she knew she would forget, and that both of them had too much pride to bring it up yet both would dwell on it. It was their way, unfortunately.

Aragorn gave Niphrediel what Niphrediel would have thought as the largest smile he could manage. It was as if Niphrediel could see the weight pounding on Estel's shoulders. She could see the fear and anxiety hidden through his strong façade. 

Niphrediel's eyes narrowed, she took a deep breath, and said nothing. 

The silence dragged on like a big, boring book, regardless how long you read there was always another page after it to take the place of the last.

Aragorn sighed the sound flamboyant against the humming of birds flitting in the air and the sound of Beren's peaceful breathing. "How is your leg?" He asked; his voice etched in care.

Niphrediel remembered her leg and looking down to it, or, rather, the area of skirt where her leg would be underneath the layer. "Numb, at the moment," she answered, her hand patting her ankle lightly enough to not be noticed even if it were not in its unfeeling state. "Of which I am grateful." She added.

Aragorn nodded and slowly made her way over and sat down, that was when Niphrediel noticed he carried her bag.

"I brought this for you," He said, passing her, her bag. "All your material things were to be washed so all that is in this are your books."

Niphrediel's eyes widened, _my journal! _She almost snatched the bag back. "Did you read anything?" She asked, anxiously.

Aragorn shook his head, which made Niphrediel sigh, relieved. "Good." She sighed, letting out her deep breath, though she knew Aragorn would not have read her private things. He was the one who gave her the empty book in the first place so he would have recognised it as something Niphrediel would not have wanted anyone to read through.

It seemed this action had taken away the tense air around the siblings, both now more relaxed then before.

Niphrediel sighed, looking around at the flowers with an intensely pensive stare that Aragorn noticed. He glanced at where she looked, and seemed to know of whom she thought of. "_Elanor."_ He said, referring to the flower.

Niphrediel nodded. "Mother's favourite flower." She said, letting out a quiet sigh as she said the words.

Aragorn raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

Niphrediel turned her head to him, her brows high in excitement. "What is your favourite flower?"

Aragorn refrained from saying _elanor_, regardless that that was his truthful answer. He did not want to hurt Niphrediel, though he would not baby her by giving her the answer she was hoping for to cause her untruthfully given joy. 

"I do not have one, I must say." Said Aragorn; surprised that Niphrediel seemed content with that answer. "And what if your favourite flower, sister?"

Niphrediel was obviously surprised to become the victim of her own question. She shrugged. "I don't know. It would be entertaining for me to say the _niphredil_, but I have not seen it before so hence my hesitation." Niphrediel shrugged, again. "Ask me one day when I have seen more of the petalled-kind to name. Okay?"

Estel nodded, and reached out and put his hand over Niphrediel's, giving it a warm squeeze.

Niphrediel cringed as she continued to breath in the scent of her mother which became harder and harder to handle with each breath.

Aragorn sighed, nodding, also smelling the essence of Gilraen though he was stronger then Niphrediel, his face pained though not in a state of tears, he lifted up his arms and Niphrediel moved over, which startled Beren at her side for a moment.

Niphrediel made her way to her brother, sitting down as he held her topper half in his arms, her head against his shoulder.

_"Amin naini ten', vithel."_ *I lament for her, also* He whispered gently for her to hear, hopefully give her comfort. 

He looked down, once reminded of how young the child was. An innocent victim, in all ends, caught inside the aftermath of their mother's death like a ship lost in a never-ending sea. Gilraen had died years ago, but the pain was inside them both and could always be brought back. The misery would remain forever, though it would just become less evident as years would eventually pass.

Niphrediel didn't wipe her tears away from her eyes, for there were none. She was not going to let Aragorn see her cry. Not ever.  

Her face felt so much better since she had gone into the cave. Being away from no sun whatsoever helped immensely from the pain she had experienced on the way there. Being underground helped a lot, and Niphrediel hoped that effects would last long if not permanently.

Estel looked around, noticing the bag and reached out a hand, while his spare arm cradled the girl, and pulled out 'The Nightingale' of which he had not read to her for many a year now, and he turned the first page, feeling warmth on his left as Beren came closer and lay down against him as if to be able to listen to him also.

Aragorn simply smiled at the wolf and began to read to two listeners. He only read the poem at the back, one that made the tears stop. It was a beautiful poem, spoken rather then read.

He took a deep breath before he started.

**_"Ma cenilye Anar acala, _**

**_Ma hlarilye filit alire, _**

**_Íre tuile tule ara le? _**

**_Anar lauca, haire filit-ómar, _**

**_Laica salque arwa venya holmeo _**

**_Fanyar luini hellesse, en! _**

**_Vanye, vanye lóti linquilie _**

**_Ma cenilye alda atyulta _**

**_Ma hlarilye súre asúya _**

**_Íre i vinya lúme sinome sí? _**

**_Heldasse aldaron vanwa, súre mi olwar _**

**_Queni mótar titte latinassen _**

**_Helca ar lauca vilya, rossi, rossi _**

**_Caline auri, elene lómi tulir _**

**_Ma cenilye hína atyale _**

**_Ma hlarilye hína alala _**

**_Ar ma amorta órelya? _**

**_Híni mallessen, vendi, seldor _**

**_Celvar, olvar, atani nostar, ela! _**

**_Linte rámar, vanye lossi, calime hendi _**

**_Vanima, vanima, vanima, vanima." _**

Niphrediel sighed, sat up and sniffed. 

Aragorn handed her the book and she took it slowly, taking her time as her eyes gazed upon the age-worn cover. She brushed her hand against the front cover, feeling the roughness with a smile on her face, before she put it back in the bag. 

Niphrediel looked at where the bag was, with a slight frown. "Do you think I will be able to leave it here? I wish to see the others."

Aragorn nodded, standing up. "Aye, no one will take it. The maids already know it is yours, so if one were to pick it up then they would just put it back in the infirmary." He bent over and put his arms under Niphrediel's as if he where to hug her, and picked her up, getting her to her feet. 

Niphrediel nodded in thanks for his assistance whilst brushing off the loose grass and flowers on the back of her dress. "Are you going to come see them with me?" She asked, not really minding if he did or not.

Aragorn shook his head. "I am still awfully tired, and since I know I will not be getting a full-nights-rest for quite a while I best give myself some while I have the opportunity." He said, taking both her hands in both of his and bringing them up together where he kissed them both once.

Niphrediel nodded as her brother guided her hands back to her sides and slowly began to walk off. "Very well, I'll see you later." She said, and Estel gave her a nod and brief wave.

Niphrediel looked down at Beren, who was slowly returning to his feet. "Where are they, Beren?" She asked, beginning to walk off in direction for the steps that both Beren and Aragorn had walked up to get to her.

She stood on the first stone step, indeed built into the hearth of what seemed like a blunt hill. Under and around the steps where blossoms and plants of different colours astoundingly bright and all in full bloom regardless of whatever season the world was outside. The steps went down in a slight curve to a hollow where it seemed the rest of the fellowship were. They were all making beds for themselves under the roof of a silver gazebo held up by silver columns and the like. There was another plain of stairs that led to a deeper hollow. A tree prevented Niphrediel from seeing what was in there, but she really didn't bother to pay attention to it so it didn't matter.

Niphrediel cautiously steps from one step to the next; looking to the company in between each step to make sure they hadn't gone anywhere.

The fourth time she lifted her head, she saw Pippin's head move up in her direction. "Niphredili's awake!" He yelled, over to the rest of company who continued to sought out their sleeping situations.  

Boromir walked out from inside the gazebo, his shield left inside, and waved at Niphrediel with a smile that seemed forced and looked through sad eyes that looked almost rivering. He was happy to see the girl was safe, though. His sadness had nothing to do with her. 

"Hello, child!" He said, his voice succeeding in seeming joyful. He watched the girl taking her slow steps, having to put to feet down one after the other on each step like an infant still learning to walk.

Niphrediel knew Beren was getting a little frustrated at her currant speed, but she wasn't going to go any faster. She was probably going too fast under her situation, rather then slower. Regardless of that thought, she was relieved when Boromir jogged up the stairs and put an arm under her left one, around her back, and carried her the rest of the way down.

Niphrediel smiled in thanks when he settled her back on the ground. She was no feather, but Boromir carried her more then easily enough. She was not much compared to other things he's had to carry before. 

Frodo and Sam put their things down for a moment to greet Niphrediel, as did the other two hobbits. "Are you all right?" They all asked, unfortunately not simultaneously so it sounded like a mass of the same words jumbled up by four voices.

Niphrediel nodded.

"Ah, you are a tough one." Said Boromir, as he looked at the bruise on her head. "Let's hope it wont take too long to heal."

Niphrediel nodded, looking over them all, not really noting that two were not here at that time. "Are all well?" She asked.

Frodo nodded. "Aye. We are all right."

Pippin nodded. "Hobbits; thick skulls." He smiled.

Merry nodded, too. "Yeah, only some skulls are more hollow then others, right Pip?"

Pippin frowned. "Huh?" He asked, giving Niphrediel a hug, his little arms holding her around her abdomen.

Niphrediel smiled, touched. She patted the mop of curls until the little hobbit let her go before running back off with Merry. 

Niphrediel then looked over at the gazebo. _If that is where the fellowship is to be sleeping, then why was Aragorn walking away from it? _Niphrediel sighed, but she would say nothing. Aragorn must have a reason for fibbing.

She walked across the hollow, looking down into the next. She saw a platform that looked like the cut-off trunk of a hollow tree and a small fountain there but not much else. She then continued to gaze around at the old statues around the area that looked as if they had been there for hundreds of years, watching the plants around them grow with ageless eyes under their cover of stone.

Niphrediel sat down on a rock, Beren jumping on beside her, watching as five remains of the company began to go back to their previous task.

_You know…..Gandalf would have gotten out if you had just kept running….then your leg wouldn't have been wounded AND he would still be alive. If the world turns to ruins, it will all be your fault, Niphrediel. The fate of the world is all your fault……If only he had just taken my hand! So foolish!! _

"You should be resting, you know." Legolas advised, walking passed, giving Niphrediel a little fright.

Niphrediel turned her head, watching him and Gimli walk back to their things under the gazebo. She nodded, rubbing her arm with her hand softly.

She heard a grumble in the distance and only looked up when something took her hand, and pulled it up. She looked up wide-eyed as the angry elf bore into her wrist with his eyes.

"Aiya." He said, looking down and shaking his head after he looked at the dark flesh there. 

Niphrediel shook her head, snatching her hand back. "No, no, no. It looks worse then it actually is." She absently noticed he had taken off his tunic, leaving only his pretty silk-looking shirt on that he wore underneath. He looked more comfortable without the pack and bow on his back, too.

Thranduilion sighed. "I'll have to find another gift to compensate the damage." He declared, running back to his bags.

Niphrediel shook her head urgently. "No!" She moaned, in a way that would be completed if she could stomp her foot.

"Yes!" He mimicked, which surprised her since he used sarcasm. 

Niphrediel glared. "But you have nothing to give me!" What an annoying husband he was going to be to a wife.

"Silence!" He snapped, rummaging through his pack.

Niphrediel groaned. "You repaid me by taking that rock off my leg, if anything I should be repaying you…. somehow." She said, repaid only with a wave of dismissal of Legolas's left arm.

He must have grabbed something small, since he held whatever the damned thing was in his closed left hand. He walked back to the rock and sat down, turning around and crossing his legs on it so his booted feet were no longer on the ground.

He held out his two closed hands in front of him, waiting for her to turn around, of which she didn't. Niphrediel continued to watch the hobbits make their beds.

"Hurry." Legolas nagged.

Niphrediel tightened her jaw. "I refuse to receive a gift."

"Are you always this stubborn? Most females enjoy getting gifts and do not usually force people to _not _give them something." He sighed.

Niphrediel frowned. "It's not even a permanent mark." She said, glancing at the elf. "And I must have missed it when you dropped little gifts on the bodies of those dead orcs in Moria as death is a permanent mark."

Legolas said nothing, just continued to sit there and wait stubbornly.

Niphrediel shook her head, once again. "Keep it til I do something worth awarding. A trophic gift." She said.

Legolas sighed, but nodded. "Very well." He said; putting whatever the item was in a pocket. He then took time to look at the dark bruise on Niphrediel's temple. 

"Aiya" escaped his lips with his breath quietly as he looked to the darkened flesh there. "Are you well?" He asked, suddenly seeing the wounds as if she didn't have them before then.

Niphrediel nodded. "Oh, yes." She said, "The healers are ever so skilful here."

Legolas nodded. "Of course they did. They _are _elves!" 

Niphrediel rolled her eyes and gave a helpless shrug. She scanned around the area, remembering of what was at the south of the gardens. 

Legolas looked around at where she was looking, probably thinking there was someone approaching or such. "What are you looking at?" He asked, confused rather then curious, as his eyes scanned around to anything that Niphrediel may have thought interesting.

Niphrediel shook her head. "Nothing." She said, absently. 

Legolas nodded, contently watching other things happening around them.

Niphrediel smiled to Frodo who walked passed, though it dwindled when she didn't get a glance. Niphrediel almost felt ashamed at doing something so much as smiling. Mithrandir, a dear companion, was gone, and it was her doing. 

Niphrediel stood up and brushed her skirt before she could feel any symptoms that had anything to do with her eyes beginning to water up. "Where is the orchid?"

"In that direction." Said Merry, pointing through an arcade that seemed to run into an free-ran garden of luscious vines and bushes and fresh flowers and other such plants that grew amongst each other with freedom of gardener's hands.

Niphrediel nodded. "Thankyou." She said, and then looked down at her grim counterpart.

All it took was the couple moments of silence and he was serious again. Overly serious like he was an old dying dog looking up at the sky, waiting for death. It was depressing and uncomfortable. Elves weren't supposed to look such…well, maybe in the past it was so, but in these dark times…. Niphrediel could not be sure.

"Come on, then." She said, making herself as cherry as she could possibly force herself to seem.

Legolas looked up to her, frowning. "Huh? What did you say, child?" He asked, not listening to her previous comment.

Niphrediel gave a nod. "Come on. To the orchid here-we-come!" She said, beginning to walk.

"Hurry up." She mumbled, beginning to lead the way. She didn't hear footsteps, but the leaves crunched behind her, being so fragile under the lighter feet. 

Oh how she missed Glorfindel.

Legolas sighed tiredly behind her, but continued to follow her.

Niphrediel walked through the archway, amazed at what it is that it led to.

The garden was large and green. The bushes, flowers and vines were free to grow without maintenance save the shortly cropped grass that must be trimmed sporadically. The walls that kept the garden inside were tall and made from ancient stone clothed with beautiful vines that grew up them. Here and there were the ruins of ancient stone garden furniture and ornaments and at the very end of the garden, so far away Niphrediel could not see it, was a gigantic fountain built into the last stone wall. Regardless of its age, or that half of it overrun with moss and flowers, water still sprout from the taps.

Niphrediel walked along, her gaze unable to keep still. It was like a garden of….a garden of ……Niphrediel couldn't explain, but it was as if the garden was just for her. As if it had waited throughout the ages just for her to come along and look at it.

Niphrediel glanced down at the plain of grass in the middle of the garden, at the flowers there, for she now stood in the heart of it and the flowers were only centimetres from her feet. They were a mass of beautiful white flowers perched on high green stems. They were all white flowers, but two different kinds.

Niphrediel raised a curious eyebrow, and slowly bent down, picking one up. She brought it close to her face so she could see it.

Its petals were large and velvet-looking, spread out to make the face of the flower look like a star, and inside was gold-coloured pollen in the centre.

Niphrediel smiled, and brought the flower to her noise and breathed its perfume in. It smelt like an air of an orchid after the rain…. that very distinctive, fresh smell. 

Niphrediel looked at it, thinking for a moment. It was strange that flowers were so….so…feminine. Niphrediel could easily compare flowers to maiden's she knew. Yet this flower seemed different. Wether it was the shape of it, of the shelter-like arch of the petals; this flower was not so feminine. If roses such as roses, daisies and elanors were the female flowers, then it was flowers like these that were the males.

Niphrediel slowly sat down, twirling the stem of the flower in between her thumb and index finger. She turned around and waved the bored elf over. "Hurry up." She yelled.

Legolas sighed and sat down slowly, lazily moving his legs up in front of him so his underarms rested against them. He was in a world faraway, as Niphrediel could tell. He was probably sleeping.

Niphrediel frowned and reached out with her hand and waved the flower in front of his face, accidentally hitting his cheek, but because it was only a flower and wouldn't have harmed him, Niphrediel didn't have to say sorry. "Hey." She beckoned.

Legolas snapped out of his little reverie and looked over. "Hmm? What is it?" He asked.

Niphrediel waved the flower again. "What is this?"

Legolas looked at her strangely, raising an eyebrow. "It's a flower, Niphrediel."

Niphrediel glared. "No. I mean what _kind _of flower is it?"

Legolas shrugged, looking at the flower. "Why, it is the flower _uilos._" He said, snatching the flower from her to look at it himself.

"Huh? It's the what?" Niphrediel asked, having misheard what he had said.

Legolas twirled the flower between his thumb and index fingers, as she had, looking down at the star-shaped face. "The _uilos _flower_. _The_ simbelmynë. _Its name means 'Everwhite'." He, too, brought the flower to his nose, breathing in the scent. "Its original origins are not from Lorien, nor any other elvish dwelling. Someone must have loved it much for it to be brought here to grow also since it only grows in one other place. It is, though, a rather complementary flower for this place."

"Why is that?" Niphrediel asked, surprised that she was actually interested.

Legolas gave the flower back to her. "It knows no season. It grows all year round. 'Immortal' as its Sindarin name translates."

Niphrediel frowned, trying to remember the meaning of 'immortal' in elvish…..

"_Alfirin_." Legolas said with a small smile, seeing that Niphrediel was trying to think of the word. 

Niphrediel nodded. "Yes, that's it." She held up the flower for her to see. "The alfirin." She thought aloud, before looking to the other flower. She put the alfirin down, moving her hand to take up one of the other kind of flower.

She picked it up, and just like the alfirin, she brought it up to her so she could see it closer.

This breed of flower seemed the opposite of the alfirin apart from its white colour, though it was a little paler. The two flowers were like a set; the alfirin sheltered this flower with its big petals while this flower had yet to let its own petals fall open for it seemed to not yet be able to do so. The meaning seemed symbolic like a parent and child or other such pairs.

Niphrediel brought the flower to her nose, breathing in a sweet scent of honey coming from something hidden inside the layer of petals, letting the flower linger there so she could continue look at it properly.

It was the colour of bright winter snow atop of a long and slender stalk of pale green. The pale petals seemed to hug together, remaining unfolded, like the form of a juvenile rose, shaped like a drop of snow. It was large, though, as physically mature as the alfirin stating that the flower was supposed to look so at its adult state.

Niphrediel waved the flower in front of Legolas, just like she did the alfirin. "What is this?" She asked.

Legolas paused before answering. "Do you think I am a gardener?" He asked, in amusement.

Niphrediel shrugged. "I know not, but anyone has better knowledge about flowers than I, so if you don't know then there is no way that I do." She muttered quickly. "So? What is it?"

Legolas gave a shrug of his shoulders. "Well, if I am right—which I am—then it is a _niphredil_." 

Niphrediel's eyebrows raised, shocked. "This is a niphredil?"

Legolas nodded, laying down on the soft grass. "Indeed, it is." He said, bringing his arms up and putting his hands under his head as he looked up at the sky slowly becoming dim as the sun set. "I'm surprised you didn't know." He added.

Niphrediel shrugged. "I've just never thought about it." She said, leaning on her left arm; her lower arm lying on its side so she was not totally lying down.

For some reason, her hand came up to her whistle around her neck and Niphrediel moved onto her stomach, her elbows keeping herself as high as she could be, as she brought the whistle to her mouth.

"What are you doing?" Legolas mumbled, his gaze not moving from the sky.

He got no answer, until the melodic siren of the whistle was sent into the air. A little too loudly, for it made Legolas cringe.

Niphrediel immediately stopped, seeing his cringe. She _then _remembered about his more sensitive hearing. "Opps. Sorry." She said apologetically.

Legolas glared at her. "Just don't do it again." He said, before letting it go. His slight irritation drained away after that.

Niphrediel bit her lip.

"My the world has changed since I was young." Sighed Legolas, obviously to himself.

Regardless that he just was speaking allowed, Niphrediel thought about the words he had just said, a frown coming to her face as she pushed herself back up, her arm straight as she leaned on it, sitting comfortably. "What are you talking about? You _are _young." She said, confused.

Legolas must had been amused at this, for he sat up, and got back into the sitting position as he did before laying down. His amused eyes stuck on hers. "Really?" He said, raising an eyebrow. "How old do you think I am?" He asked, curiously.

Niphrediel shrugged. "I don't know…a little older then me."

It looked like Legolas had to keep himself from gaping. "When I was your age I was an infant."

Niphrediel shrugged. "Okay, that was a stupid answer." She said, thinking again. "Thiry?"

"But a seed!" Legolas declared.

Niphrediel guessed again. "Fifty?"

"Pah!"

"Sixty?"

Legolas raised an unamused eyebrow, stating 'no'.

"Seventy?"

Legolas sighed, looking away like a snob.

Niphrediel grinned. _Drama queen. _"One hundred!"

Legolas laughed. "I was one hundred more then two hundred years ago!"

Niphrediel nodded. _Yes, of course. That is probably the normal age of some elves…_

"Five hundred?" Niphrediel asked.

Legolas shook his head, stare amused and a secretive grin upon his lips. 

Niphrediel stopped pausing between her guesses, becoming a little uneasy. "Six hundred?"

"No."

"Seven hundred?"

"No."

"Eight hundred?"

"No."

Niphrediel hesitated, eyes becoming wide. "Nine hundred?" She let out.

Legolas smiled at her expression, before he shook his head.

Niphrediel froze for a moment, shocked. She swallowed a lump in her throat and began to continue. "O-O-One thousand?" She said, stuttering.

Legolas shook his head. "I was a millennia old more then a millennia ago."

Niphrediel's arm felt like jelly. "You're"-

"I will be three thousand years old in due time, as time for elves passes quickly. The few years will pass in no time and I would have lived three thousand years."

Niphrediel gaped, looking at the elf in newfound wonder. "Wow…" She paused for a moment. "You're really old."

Legolas laughed hard, so hard he had to lower his head and cover his mouth to try and stop him from smiling since it quickly began to hurt his cheeks. "Compared to you, yes, I am ancient." He said, when he was finally composed enough to speak. "But I am young compared to others of my kin, such as Glorfindel, Elrond, and other elves who you may know."

Niphrediel shrugged, lying down on her back. "Probably." She mumbled, letting her arms go limb on the mattress of soft grass, her right hand still holding the niphredil.

"This will be our secret place, inkay?" She said wit enthusiasm.

Legolas raised an eyebrow, scanning the garden. "Our secret place?"

Niphrediel nodded. "I've never had a secret place before, let alone a secret garden, and since I'm with you it can only fit."

Legolas shrugged. "Alright then. This will be our special place." He said in amusement. He mustn't have had a secret place before. Glorfindel and Niphrediel's special place in Imladris.

Oh how Niphrediel missed Glorfindel.

Niphrediel frowned, again feeling her gut turn with the symptoms of homesickness. She, instead, tried to think about other things desperately; anything that could get her mind of Rivendell and all her loved ones there.

"What does your name mean?" She asked, not in reasons to make conversation, but rather that she actually didn't know since she had never thought about it.

"Green leaf." Replied Legolas.

Niphrediel brought her right hand up, letting it rest against her stomach while it gently held the flower. She blew a tendril of her growing bangs away from her face while the rest of her hair lay like the rest of her on the grass like a black pool. "That's nice."

"I wouldn't say _nice, _but I have heard worse." Legolas said.

Niphrediel's eyebrows rose in interest. "Oh? Like what?"

Legolas shrugged. "I cannot think of anything, but I know there are some really horrid ones that are totally unsuited like…hmmm." He paused, thinking. "Like a maid with a name meaning 'Princess of the Dawn' or something overly-done like that."

Niphrediel laughed at that, looking up suddenly noticing that the moon and stars were beginning to show through the darkened, though not black yet, sky bared through the trees.

It was then that Legolas, too, noticed the change of day. "Oh, is it getting too dark for you?" He asked, not being able to know how well she could see since he did not have the problem.

Niphrediel shook her head, since she could see just fine at the moment. Tonight seemed that it was going to be a bright night, so Niphrediel would be able to see well enough all night if she had to.

"You have a gift." Stated Legolas, settling down about a metre beside her.

Niphrediel shrugged. "What's that?" She asked, not really bothered, since she thought he was talking about her eyesight under dark circumstances.

"You make me feel young." He said.

Niphrediel frowned. "You said it yourself; you are young."

Legolas sighed. "At such grave times, it does not feel such."

Niphrediel continued to frown, but said nothing else.

"It's supposed to be a complement, by the way." Stated Legolas, as if clearing that little fact up.

"Good." Mumbled Niphrediel, looking up into the sky. "And it is good I make you feel young. You have a lot of time to be old."

Legolas raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Are you 'Niphrediel the Seer', now?"

Niphrediel's eyes brightened at this game. "Yes I am. Its better then being 'Legolas the Old'."

Legolas moved up into a sitting position, his legs crossed. "Then do tell, Niphrediel the Seer, what does the future have in store for dear 'Legolas the Old'?"

Niphrediel took a minute to let her imagination run wild, coming up with her little story. "Well…" She began, emphasizing the word. "You will go on this quest, and after it all prevails and Aragorn, Arwen and I go to Gondor, you will……um……travel all the lands of Middle Earth before finding a small elvish city on your way home."

Legolas nodded, utterly amused. "And then???"

"And you met beautiful elf maiden called…." Niphrediel thought for a moment, her eyes that were bright from her child-like storytelling dimming before she continued on. "Elanor!" She said, making Legolas laugh from his mouth underneath his hand that covered it to muffle the sounds. "With eyes of bright blue and hair so golden one could swear golden stars twinkled from them. Anyway, you take Elanor with you to Mirkwood to meet your father and because Elanor is so beautiful and lovely, everyone absolutely adores her and you marry right away!"

Legolas shook his head helplessly, but Niphrediel, so tied up in her story, ignored it.

"And sooner or later, when poor old Niphrediel the Seer is telling stories only underground in a tomb from a body of dust, as you and Elanor live happily in the Grey Havens, she becomes with child and has a pair of twins. A boy and a girl! You name the boy….." Niphrediel thought again for a moment, as names were obviously not her speciality. "Legolion, and the girl….." A cheeky grin came to her face at the end of her search for the girl's name. "Niphrediel!"-

Niphrediel was silenced by the loud and interruptive sound of Legolas's laughs.

His shoulders bobbled up and down as he laughed, rocking slightly back and forth to keep him from rolling to his side.

Niphrediel continued, either way. "Because Niphrediel is the most beautiful name in the world, so, of course, you would name your daughter that." She waved her hand, finishing her story. "And you lived happily ever after with Elanor, Legolion and Niphrediel. That sounds slightly funny to the ears…. by oh well'."

Legolas continued to laugh. "And what will happen to you in your future, Niphrediel the Seer?" He asked.

Niphrediel shrugged. "I don't know." 

Legolas clapped. "Come on. Do predict!"

Niphrediel thought for a minute, before speaking the first thoughts that came to mind. "I will go with Aragorn and Arwen to Gondor, where Aragorn will be titled accordingly and they will be married. I will be known as the rather strange girl who only comes out for dinner by most, which I wouldn't really care about. I will grow up, eventually, and watch Aragorn and Arwen have their own children and love them as my own throughout the ages. I will die happily surrounded by those I love at an elderly age and my coffin will be shrouded with a small lot of elanors and niphredils and I will be buried in a tomb between my mother and Aragorn." She finished with a smile. "That would be a good life, me thinks."

Legolas raised an eyebrow, something coming to mind; yet he did not speak. He continued to think before he lay back down, obviously pensive as his face became grim.

"Don't think." Niphrediel spoke.

Legolas turned his head. "What?"

Niphrediel turned her head, giving Legolas a nod with her eyes. "Don't think. Forget about other things."

"Why?" He asked.

Niphrediel looked back up to the sky. "There is nothing that can be thought of that may relieve you from worrying, so just forget about it all."

"Oh, is that going to be a rule for me whenever I am with you?" Legolas asked, contented.

Niphrediel nodded. "Yes, it is." She said, speaking seriously and with added age. "It is not healthy to worry or think all the time about the past or future, especially for an elf since you have and will live through a lot of it. All those things are forgotten when in my presence from this moment on, Legolas Greenleaf, understand? There is only now, no past, nor future." She preached.

Legolas nodded. "Very well. That is a surprisingly wise idea."

Niphrediel shrugged. "Its from 'The Nightingale'. One of the little poems at the end."

"What is it?" He asked.

Niphrediel shrugged, again. "I don't know it by heart. I'll read it to you one day."

"What is it about?" 

"Friendship, I think. Friendship or, and, love in whatever form. It was my mother's favourite." She said.

Silence was brought to the two, before Legolas's voice broke it. "Do you miss your mother?"

Niphrediel took out a deep breath. "Everyday." She mumbled, consternation written on her face.

Legolas shuffled. "So do I." He said.

Niphrediel frowned. "Your mother"-

"My mother waits for my family and I to meet her again in Valinor." Legolas gently interrupted, saving Niphrediel from guessing.

Niphrediel nodded. "Just feel lucky knowing that you _will _meet her again, Thranduilion. Most are not so fortunate." She said with a small smile, looking up and frowning.

She closed her eyes, for a moment, seeming as if she were just lounging back in peace. Inside she was hoping that maybe, just maybe, if she opened her eyes she will find out the passed years was just a nightmare, and she was still a little girl with a mother. 

She refused to open her eyes, wishing with all her might, yet knowing what she was hoping for wasn't going to happen. So instead, she chose to keep the darkness there; the only way she could pretend that she was nothing but air, or perhaps a calm breeze too weak to knock anything over.

She frowned when she felt something soft graze the back of her hand and slightly thicker, longer and stronger fingers move into the gaps of hers. If not for the skin of pure silk, Niphrediel would think this was Aragorn, and if not for the city she was in, she would think this Glorfindel. Niphrediel tightened her hold on the elf's hand, comforted by the brotherly gesture.

Indeed, Legolas was like Glorfindel, though if in a life or death situation, Niphrediel's loyalty to her best friend would undoubtedly come first. 

Niphrediel opened her eyes and sniffed. "Urgh, sorry. Something was in my eye." She mumbled, unfortunately making herself smile as her eyes began to fill slightly. 

Legolas laughed, sounding more like a sweet giggle. Niphrediel watched him get up and lean over her from his towered height.

Niphrediel raised an eyebrow and waved, making him grin as his laughter faded away.

"Come along, then." Said Legolas. "There is a dinner we should go to."

Niphrediel frowned in distaste of the idea. "No!" She groaned.

"Yes!" Legolas mimicked, making Niphrediel laugh regardless of her efforts to resist.

Niphrediel looked up at the edhel, widening her eyes to beg with his. "Please." She begged. "Lets just stay here. I don't have the energy."

Legolas laughed, shaking his head and bringing his arms to hang down to her, his hands open for her to take. "Come on, Aragorn will get worried if you are away too long." He said, lowering his hands even more. "Hurry up before I hurt my back." He grinned.

Niphrediel continued to frown as she took his hands and allowed him to pull her up, and they began to make their way back. From there, Niphrediel didn't know where to go, so she just stuck with Legolas and followed him like a shadow, of which he expected.

Despite Niphrediel's façade, inside she felt her doubts rising to her surface. Maybe Aragorn wasn't going to come back. Maybe the ring wasn't going to be destroyed. Maybe the world she knew was going to be destroyed at the hands of………evil.

Many other things came to Niphrediel's mind, and all of which revolved around Aragorn, rather then the ring or her mother or the rest of the world or the other things an unself-centered lady would think about. Why did her brother, her keeper, had to be chosen? Why was his fate dependant on him facing the evils of this world? Why was she not born a man so she could help? Why couldn't she have more hope?

Niphrediel's frown darkened, and she continued to move on.

The dinner was quiet, the food more tasteful then anything Niphrediel had tasted for a long time. There was not much chatter, at least not with a lament for Mithrandir echoing through the trees.

After eating all of the food on her plate, Niphrediel left the dinner and went back to the Infirmary. It was there where she collapsed onto her bed and cried.

**Note:**

I'd like to thank everyone who has reviewed so far and apologise for taking so bloody long to get out this chapter. I'm not going to make an excuse for my ignorance of not writing quick enough, but I will say that I'm trying to fend of Writers Block with all my might and hopefully my efforts will prevail in the battle. 

The poem featured in this chapter is called _Tuile (Spring)_ by _Ales Bican, _look down to see the translation. 

**Translation:**

Ma cenilye Anar acala 

_Do you see the Sun shine_

Ma hlarilye filit alire 

_Do you hear a bird sing _

Íre tuile tule ara le? 

_When the spring comes beside you? _

Anar lauca, haire filit-ómar 

_The Sun warm, far bird-voices _

Laica salque arwa venya holmeo 

_A green grass with fresh odour _

Fanyar luini hellesse, en! 

_White clouds upon blue sky, yonder! _

Vanye, vanye lóti linquilie 

_Fair, fair flowers of many colours_

Ma cenilye alda atyulta, 

_Do you see a tree stand up,_

Ma hlarilye _súre asúya _

_Do you hear a wind breathe _

Íre i vinya lúme sinome sí? 

_When the new time [is] here now? _

Heldasse aldaron vanwa, súre mi olwar 

_A nakedness of trees [is] lost, a wind [is] in branches _

Queni mótar titte latinassen 

_People labour on small fields _

Helca ar lauca vilya, rossi, rossi 

_Cold and warm air, dews, dews _

Caline auri, elene lómi tulir 

_Light days, starry nights come _

Ma cenilye hína atyale 

_Do you see a child play _

Ma hlarilye hína alala 

_Do you hear a child laugh _

Ar ma amorta órelya? 

_And does it uplift your heart? _

Híni mallessen, vendi, seldor 

_Children in streets, girls, boys _

Celvar, olvar, atani nostar, ela! 

_Animals, plants, humans beget, look! _

Linte rámar, vanye lossi, calime hendi 

_Swift wings, fair blossoms, bright eyes _

Vanima, vanima, vanima, vanima 

_Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful   
  
_


	9. Chapter eight: The Keep for the Sunrise

**Chapter eight: The Keep for the Sunrise**

*****

*****

*****

Niphrediel slept a short sleep, before waking up and finding Aragorn to make sure he had not left. It was something she used to do when she was a child, and it was more acceptable then, which she discovered, when Aragorn was still sleeping when she found him. What could she have expected, for the darkness of night still reigned over the lands, and it would do so for much longer. 

She did not disturb him, she instead moved away. 

She thought about her cheeriness the day before. How disrespectful. How could she have even pretended to be such at a time? A sudden sadness filled her heart and she found herself stifling sobs as she made her way away. Such pitiful sounds…the weeps of a baby. She brought her hand over her mouth to stop them coming out as her reddened eyes began to seep tears. She seemed to be able to ignore the screaming pain inflicted on her skin in her state, for she did not remove her hand. The internal physical pain seemed to mingle with her sorrow thoroughly, and only resulted in her becoming more upset. 

She stalked away through the archway into the abandoned garden. 

When she walked a decent length away from the archway, she took her hand from her mouth and aloud herself to cry out. 

She saw Gandalf smiling with the hobbits, helping her up after she vomited. She remembered his kindness for helping her with her wound; she remembered the velvety feel of his skin as his hands brushed passed hers when he gave up. 

The secrecy of the Fellowship's quest had been diminished. All hope was lost. 

Niphrediel felt her legs become weak and slowly helped herself down onto her knees. She saw everyone she loved dieing. She saw Aragorn lying in a tomb as a lid of stone was placed over him, hiding him within its cold embrace. She saw Gilraen, smiling down at a little girl that was once Niphrediel. She saw Gilraen closing her eyes one last time, her skin fading of it's beautiful colour and her lips turning a bruising blue, never to speak another soft word. She saw the world crumbling as fire overtook it all. 

"Curse you stars!" She cried, looking up with hatred to the sky. Her mouth opened once more for her to speak, but she couldn't catch her breath the rivers borne from her eyes were moistened once more from a trail of salty water. She shook her head, trying her best to express all she could yet failing. "He is all I have left." She let out quietly, her voice coarse, her head falling limp as she brought the crown of her head to the ground, letting out a moan that seemed to fade into silence. 

Niphrediel cringed, banging her skull against the ground in frustration. _They are all going to die._

Niphrediel looked back to the stupid things she had said. All the stupid things she had thought. _Oh, he'll just be a couple months. He'll be fine. _Niralinde let out a cry for her foolishness. 

The blackness created by the windows inside Niphrediel's closed eyelids began to take shape. Niphrediel seemed to be walking through a rotting garden, or perhaps an orchid. Despite the unreality of it all, Niphrediel could smell the sickly scent of the dieing plantation around her. A hand reached out from where Niphrediel's arm would be with cuts and ugly bruises over every area of its blackened skin. It reached out, directing down to a hunk of lying vines and just yanks the green ropes off with one tug. She looked down at the face of a gravestone. Worms seeped to seep out from the land around it, infecting the air above with the smell of the flesh of rotting corpses. 

'ARAGORN, SON OF ARATHORN, 

KILLED IN VAIN, 

SACRIFICED FOR NOTHING.' 

It was all her own stupid imagination, for the familiar blackness came back once more, clouding the gloomy images til they were but no more but rejected memories inside her crying mind. 

When the Fellowship left, they would not come back. They were all doomed to die, and the rest of the world would crumble shortly after. Oh why did Niphrediel have to be born amongst these years? Oh Eru why?! 

She could feel the presence of someone else and heard someone crouch down beside her, letting out a sad sigh. 

For a moment, she thought it was Maranwé, but what on earth would she be going here? She let the sound of the sigh echo through her memory, analysing the almost sexless sound. It was only a moment before Niphrediel discovered the sound was masculine. From there, she knew who the person was. 

She opened her mouth, sniffing absently. "Glorfindel--" She stopped and shook her lowered head. She knew this wasn't Glorfindel. 

Niphrediel almost prepared to be scorned, and was surprised when a hand patted through her hair, against her head, in a compassionate gesture. 

She frowned though, trying to be as hard as possible. "How"— 

"I was not sleeping." His voice was firm, his tone making it clear he did not yearn for much questions. 

"What is the matter?" Legolas then asked, his tone softer in means of comfort. 

Niphrediel shook her head, bringing her fists down upon the hearth that pushed her body up. She continued to shake her head, refusing to speak the words for a long moment. Yet when she could, she whispered, "You're all going to fall." 

"You are certain?" He frowned, not even thinking that what she had were visions, rather then Niphrediel's own over-beaten imagination. 

Niphrediel nodded once, "How could nine people carry the weight of our world's fate?" She mumbled, in painful sacrament. "Just nine…..no army….no defences…" 

"Hush now," He said, before Niphrediel had another chance to speak. "What happened to your rule? Oh, so I am not allowed to be heavy of thought, yet you are? Quite the hypocrite, eh?" He grinned, trying to lighten the mood, though put an end to that solution when Niphrediel frowned in annoyance and slight frustration of it. She wasn't in the mood for mirth. 

With his slight realisation, Legolas's humorous demeanour was shredded, like a wet blade washed through water, with such quickness that it was evident that it had been forced upon his head. "Niphrediel," He began, his words but a whisper, "One must have hope. You must have hope. Do not despair because of the burdening loss of the dead. It is only the beginning…to lose your faith so soon…" His frown was dark, as he shook his head in reference to his thoughts, "will but belittle the strength I thought I could see in you." 

Niphrediel's eyes lowered, but despite the Elf's hopes, her sorrow seemed to deepen into the dark depths of her being that only his elven eyes could sense. "Come now…." Legolas said, his voice calming to the ear. "Mithrandir saved you, hên. He stood his ground to keep you from harm." He reached out with his hand, patting the shoulder of the pained. "He would not hold you responsible, and the last thing he would want would be for you to do it to yourself, and to lose the hope that never once seemed to dim within him even in the darkest hours." 

Legolas looked downwards as Niphrediel's face began to shift expressions once more, her lips curling up and her eyes closing to a squint as the layer of moisture over her eyes began to river once more with the second wave of her departing hope. His own face shifted into an expression of utter defeat, before watching as Niphrediel lashed out with her arms and held on tightly to his leg like what a baby would do to prevent its mother from walking away. 

"Ah…" He stood there for a moment in slight shock and uneasiness, his widened eyes scanning the garden in urgency for anyone that could possibly help him out. He moved his right leg a step or two, but it seemed as if his left had been nailed to the ground. It did not seem to occur to him that his left leg could still be lifted and shifted away. The thought appeared to not even come to mind. 

He took a moment, to look up at the moon, his eyes pleading with it, _"Elil-Gadë, tu amin."_ He begged, closing his eyes in the hopes to regain his forgotten wisdom of caring of a young one. It had been a long time since he had been in such position, and he did not really enjoy it. It was not that he did not know how to comfort in brotherly empathy, but rather of whom such attention would be placed on. Niphrediel had a brother, and he a sister. He almost thought it might be disrespectful for he to needlessly take the place of a brother in her eyes. And, of course, it was just wrong. Two different species with too many differences, it was not morally correct in his eyes. 

And yet when he looked downwards, he did not see a mortal, nor sister. He just saw a heartbroken infant. An overgrown infant, yes, and a very old babe, also. Yet the being needed the same thing as one: comfort. 

"Now, now, now," He whispered gently, pasting on his most softest and melodic tone that he could manage properly, as he bent down and gently untwined the arms around his leg. He caught the arms below the triceps before they fell limply to the grass, and absently threw them upon his shoulders as he moved to get an arm under them in the means to be able to pick her up off the ground. Subconscious 

Niphrediel frowned, in slight surprise, as was picked up into the air swiftly, though she did not really have the desire to truly care. The flowing borne from her eyes made it impossible for her to see properly now, and it was beginning to unconsciously annoy her amongst her stupid sorrow, yet she did not think to just wipe her eyes. Oh no. Throughout her thoughtlessness, she was still sane. 

Legolas picked her up, and he was quite surprised how easy it was. Unfortunately, his presumptions were not correct; her body was not the perfect size for his arms. Her form did not fall perfectly into his, like he had thought since she was of easy compact and favourable height. He wondered for a moment, wether or not she was possibly uncomfortable. Their difference of body types resulted in a mismatch when it came to embracing. 

What did he expect? Elves and humans were not physically compatible. It was just like putting a rat and a mouse together. Though they may seem similar, they are different beings. 

Niphrediel stared blankly into the root of a tree much afar, upon the velvety green of the grass. Legolas felt hard and bumpy against her and she just wanted to take a step back, and felt horrible about that because of his kindness to even bother with her. Her body felt uncomfortable and imperfect against his. She was not of same form as elven woman; who are made to be held by elven men. She closed her eyes for a moment, and stiffened to prevent a cringe. 

She shuffled once, and her eyes opened when solace came. Though it was still uncomfortable, the little movement made an almost drastic improvement. There was chance for such a stupid reservation. With her breaking heart still tearing, and her eyes still falling with the drops of diminishing faith, Niphrediel edged once more to the left, which was quite difficult since her feet swayed in the air above the ground and she did not move her arms that idly hanged down from the elf's shoulders. Once more, there was a huge improvement, and she felt almost relaxed, yet she seemed to be held almost diagonally. She shuffled once more, and exhaled, her head stiff perched just above the elf's shoulder also, her hair shrouding her face like a veil to hide everything. She had found her place within the firm forest that was the Greenleaf. Her tensed body drained of it all, and her limps just seemed to fall into perfect place like a puzzle. 

Legolas, though, did not seem to notice. What he did notice was that her body no longer moved, which made him think that perhaps she wished for sleep. If so, that would be a good thing, for it meant he could put her down and return to the gazebo to rest. Though he was absently trying, he could not drowse off. Perhaps his conscience thought it wrong of him to at such a time when his help was needed, for he knew no other reason why. 

Remembering an old trick of his naneth, he began to sway Niphrediel ever so gently from left to right. He then took her hand from his right shoulder, letting it lie limply upon his palm as he continued to sway, in soft dance. 

"_Iire tel'ringwe hrive tuluva,_

_N'elen dome tuupuva re._

_E' tel' fanya o Anar_

_Lye trialluva e' kotyaer rosa._

_Nan' e' kaimeluva_

_Amin tena essalle_

_Ar' e' kaimeluva_

_Lyre omentuva au'_." 

He sung the verse in a whisper once more, though this time making purposeful mistakes and making his voice brake at the higher bits on the times that he did not sing completely out-of-tune. As he knew he would, he was replied with a muffled laugh amongst a little sniff. 

His arms, still fine carrying the weight of another person, tightened slightly when he turned towards the archway of the garden, and Legolas let out a short cough, to clear his voice of the residue of his ridiculous falsetto. He let out a short exhale, his grin still planted upon his face as he eyed the gap. 

"What do you say we make our way back inside?" He asked half-heartedly, predicting already that the plan would not be complementary in the child's eyes. 

Her reply confirmed his prediction. 

"I would rather rot." Niphrediel said, without hesitation.Letting out another sigh, she was placed back on the ground, where she slumped back down, though now without the tears and sobbing. Though, her face was thoroughly tear-streaked, her eyes were becoming dry. 

She frowned as Legolas walked a couple metres away, and bent down. Placed on the ground, one on top of the other was a very thick, large, quilt, a more softer and larger folded quilt, and two flat pillows. 

"Here, catch." Legolas said, giving little warning before throwing a pillow at Niphrediel's head in playful roughness before laying the thicker quilt down to create a layer overtop of the green sprouts. 

Moving onto the thin mattress, Niphrediel laid her head upon her pillow, separated by about a metre from the other one, and allowed her body to relax upon the hard, yet favourable, bed. A couple memories came into mind as the soft blanket fluttered down to cover her from the chest down. Memories of being tucked in as a younger child. 

Letting out an absent exhale, Legolas lowered himself onto his own pillow, pulling his arms up so his hands could also be behind his head to make the pillow slightly thicker. He did not lie in the blanket covers, for he had to reason to do so. He was not cold, nor will he ever be. He was an elf, after all. It was only natural. 

Niphrediel turned around, into the elf, though her eyes were closing so it did not really matter to both of them, as she gave a dark yawn. 

"Why aren't the elves and mortals better friends, Legolas? Why has the old alliance fallen to distant memories?" She asked, in drowsiness. 

Letting out a sigh, Legolas shrugged. "I'm not sure Niphrediel," he said. "Perhaps because most have no faith in them." 

"Men or elves?" 

Legolas shrugged once more, "Both, I suppose. Men have no faith in the First Born, and the Elves…. they see only the bad things of the Second Born." 

Niphrediel nodded, her eyes beginning to close. Though, despite the child's exhaustion, she sat up and shuffled around, her eyes half-opened in a daze. She seemed half-asleep already, as she lay herself back down, now in a totally different position. Lying her head down on her arm atop of the elf's stomach, her legs slightly folded up to prevent them from going over the bounds of the large blanket, it was then when the child stopped shuffling. 

Letting out one last yawn, Niphrediel began to fall to sleep, her body then lying limp. "Never die, Legolas." She let out in a whisper, in her half-minded state, her hand that lay beside her face on his abdomen gathering a small gathering of his tunic, like what a baby would do with it's blanket. 

Legolas lay then, totally uncomfortable, though it did not show. He contemplated trying to pry the human from him, til he shunned himself in anger. The child was showing affection for the Valar's sake, and not even harmful affection that he sought to prevent in females that would lead to their infatuation on their part. But, strangely though, his unconscious spurn worked. Though, he still wanted to be left alone, his being relaxed extensively. 

As elves do, he could not feel the cold. He could not even imagine what being cold would feel like. But, he could sense the change of temperature, and judging by the slight shivering of Niphrediel's shoulders, it was not becoming warmer. 

Lifting his head, Legolas brought his left hand up from under his head, and grabbed the corner of the top quilt and pulled it over the curled body of the young girl, and soon after that, the shivering stopped. Legolas replaced his hand, looked up to the sky and slept deeply, unconsciously feeling the company of the child soothing, to his shock. 

He was getting too used to her, maybe. Legolas did not really think about it, since it was not important. It did not really matter still, and Legolas knew if never would. It was all harmless and insignificant, so he did not bother pressing or analysing. He forced himself to sleep, and slept his most deepest and more comfortable slumbers in a very long while, even with the girl lying on him. He actually ended up finding it comfortable in the end, like having a heavy pillow lying on him. 

'_What is your name?'_

_'…Niphrediel.'_

_'That's a beautiful name.'_

_'…What's yours?'_

_'Hmmm…what do you want it to be? What do you think my name should be?'_

_'…'_

_'Come on, child! Lo! it'll be just for fun.'_

_'…gold…'_

_'Gold…?'_

_'….Golden one.'_

_'Golden one? Very good decision.'_

_'…What's your name?'_

_'Glorfindel.'_

_'Oh…What does that mean?'_

_'Golden-haired.'_

_'Oh…'_

_'You do not know Elvish?'_

_'…Yes. I only know how to say goodbye, though…'_

_'Really? Say it for me.'_

_'….'_

_'Please, child? I beg thee.'_

_'…Nama…'_

_'Nama…?'_

_'…Namarië.'_

_'Aiya! That was brilliant! Your voice was made to speak elvish words.'_

_'But that's all I know.'_

_'Do not worry child. I'll teach you.'_

_'…Very well…'_

_'Very well…??'_

_'…Very well, Glarfindel.'_

_'Hey, its Glorfindel. You should know naught to mess with me, lass; I am one tough brute under this pelt of dung.'_

_'.....'_

_'Hey now…is that a smile I see? I think it is!'_

_'…Naw!'_

_'Yes! Behold! Look! The most beautiful smile ever to reach the borders of this Elvenhome! Hurrah to one and all for this vision!'_

Glorfindel…. 

Niphrediel's eyes snapped open, a bang erupting through her subconscious, waking her up with or without her consent. 

She gingerly moved her head, of which had not moved nor had _been_ moved throughout her slumber. Legolas seemed to still sleep, though he must have noticed her movements, being an elf and all. But, he did not make any reaction that Niphrediel could sense, so she did not tarry her attention on him. He was obviously very tired. 

Niphrediel looked about the garden, lush and warm under the shade of the leafed sky. Yet there seemed a strange weariness about her as she looked about, her brow slowly furring into a frown, as she seemed to sense something different about the atmosphere in which had engulfed her in her waken hours. 

She slowly perched herself up onto her good knee, her eyes grazing the area around her. Her few tracker skills were now to be put to use, taking the place of her so called 'intuition'. She did not know too many tricks-of-the-trade. She was no Ranger, nor any Tracker or such…. But she was Aragorn's student, and he did not spend important years just teaching her how to hurt others. 

Her eyes searched the far reaches of the garden and the fountain, the orchard and the bushes. There was no unnatural change there that her _palan _eyesight could identify in those numerous places, and that was when Niphrediel's stare dragged downwards, carrying with it the attentiveness of a tiger as it came upon the floor of entangled flowers a mere two metres away from Legolas's booted feet. 

Niphrediel slowly edged herself closer to the edge of the blanket, doing her best not to disturb her healing shin. Once she positioned herself in a position that allowed her to look down at the prints, she no longer moved closer, but rather, continued to narrow her stare closer and closer to the two engraves of heavy boots made on the dampened grass and flowers. 

Niphrediel let out a long exhale, her left brow twitching to rise as her mind began to ponder. She slowly lowered her hand, allowing it to lay flat and straight in the heart of the left imprint. Closing her eyes for a moment to focus all her mind upon her ability to touch, Niphrediel's palms pressed against the squashed hearth still covered in the morning layer of wetness. 

"The prints are deep and no grass has sprung back up and no evidence of moisture," Niphrediel whispered, thinking aloud, of which seemed to help her waking brain as it tried to make some sense of this discovery. _Which means they were made during the night before the sun came up,_ She thought, now silent, lifting her hands from the ground and rubbing the dry soil between her thumb and index. _Dry soil… that means that the floor had been sheltered through the waning end of the night when the garden floor became damp…_ Niphrediel's face became rather unsettled as she dropped her hands to her sides, in realisation. 

"Lo! someone would have had to stand on the hearth for at least an hour for this to have happened, at least under this place's weather settings." 

Niphrediel, uncomfortable in the fullest, slowly rose to her feet. Though her thoughts still upon the mornings circumstance, her depression beginning to melt under Lorien's benefit. 

Suddenly her eyes slightly widened, as she stood on both legs, the nightdress still worn upon her a little grass-stained here and there and indeed ready for a change. 

Her leg was scorned no longer! Ilúvatar has shone upon this day! Lo! bless the One of all living creatures! Bless his mercy and magnificence on the gratified (though disturbing) morn! 

Niphrediel did not jump or hop, though, just in case. She looked down to her elven friend, of whom still lay down in peace and wide-eyed while he walked the paths of elvish dreams, and gave a thankful smile that quickly dwindled when a rather uneasy feeling was released into her gut like toxic fumes to a herd of mice. 

She then looked to the sky, hoping that it would help her relieve herself perhaps, and began to let her senses roam, to allow her thoughts and worries a temporary asylum. 

The air smelt like sweet morning due, if Niphrediel could ever imagine that fragrance, which she could, and the sky was coloured a rich colour, stating that the sun was in the middle of it's arising glory. Though, despite the sky's beauty, it seemed as if Anor had painted the sunset with blood and fire. It was a glorious sight, but seemed almost a blade with two edges. 

Niphrediel could see one star beginning to dim in its twinkling endeavour. It was the last. For some reason, looking at it made her fill with dread. The feeling went right to her gut, making her feel unclean. Niphrediel did not know what made her feel that way, but it was like her body knew something she did not, or perhaps something she had forgotten. 

Niphrediel frowned, and made her way away at a brisk pace, feeling so much better that she her steps fell will so much more ease and without any numbness or heaviness. It felt as if she had not been hurt in the first place, and that was a grand feat indeed. 

The sun had not risen, and the Fellowship were slurping the last few sips of long sleeps hungrily, or so it seemed, so it was easy for Niphrediel to slip passed under the watch of her own over-excited attention. 

Back to the Infirmary Niphrediel went, and through the oak doors she entered, finding Maranwé at the table happily preparing more potions and creams. 

"_Maer aur_." (Good morning.) Maranwé smiled, her voice tuned in the language of perfectly pronounced Sindarin. 

_I wish it was so, _Niphrediel cringed, before smiling a weak and forced smile to the carefree healer. "My leg feels as good as new," Niphrediel said. 

Niphrediel could only frown when Maranwé's eyes began to widen, her brilliant features depicting a canvas of shock rather then…. say…joy, surprise, delight or relief. Maranwé almost looked ready to scream, as before her stood a headless carcass with a bloodied stump at its neck and tentacles for fingers. 

"What ills you?" Niphrediel asked carefully, her stare inquisitive and her manner beginning to travel the borders of edginess. "Oh please, Maranwé, tell me what churns the waters of your river such a livid green." She whispered, walking up to Maranwé and patting her shoulder. 

Maranwé shook her head, slowly walking Niphrediel to a cot and motioning for her to sit down, of which the child complied. Letting out a sigh, Maranwé moved over to a tray placed a couple metres away near her table and brought it to her side at Niphrediel's bedside. 

"I am shocked, in pure honesty." Maranwé said, gently gliding Niphrediel's legs up onto the body of the sheeted cot, making her lie down before kneeling upon the floor to be at perfect stature from her staggering height. "In all accounts…. your leg should take at least three months to properly heal itself from it's wound." She said, lifting Niphrediel's long (and quite dirtied) skirt to a modest length at her knee, and beginning to unbandage her bandages. 

Niphrediel frowned, turning her head on the surface of the feathered pillow. "Three months…." She whispered, for her own attention. 

Maranwé slowly peeled back the last cover that separated her newer-grown flesh from the fresh air, and her gasp stunned the room, the tools in her hands cluttering to the floor as her stare pierced Niphrediel's skin. 

Niphrediel sat up, frightened, her terror and anxiety as clearly seen as the sun in the sky on a clear day. "What is it?!" She cried, panting. 

Maranwé's stare flickered back at Niphrediel, though this time her eyes seemed to dive into hers, as if to find something. Her shocked and almost ghastly expression marring her such succulent features would make even the most aloof jumpy. "Your skin…. it has properly healed." 

Niphrediel looked down at her bared shin and let out a long sigh, relieved that Maranwé's reaction had not been drawn from the opposite occurrent. "Ah…. thankyou Eru." She whispered, letting her thanks be spoken almost to quiet for Maranwé's ears to pick up, if she had been actually listening to it. "That is lucky." Niphrediel said, looking at the small, fading scar of about five inches that was all left from her nasty experience. It may not fully fade, but it wouldn't be noticeable in a couple months at the least. 

Maranwé shook her head, standing up, "There is no luck, Niphrediel, that will repay someone with unbelievable wound-healing." She said, her quiet and soft, yet also rather frightened. Frightened of what exactly, Niphrediel could not bring herself to tell, but it was not her. Maranwé did not fear Niphrediel, or the other way around. 

Niphrediel let out an exasperated sigh, and looked to a window, her gaze falling down to Beren prancing around like a jumping mouse, trying to reach the window and see what was going on. Only the top of his black nose was Niphrediel able to properly identify, but even that brought a smile to her limps as she was taken out to bath herself and get dressed into her own clothing that had been washed in her favour. 

She did not put on her black tunic, though. Instead she was more content to wear the white shift shirt she wore underneath it. It was thin, airy and comfortable with its relatively square neckline and loose sleeves that stopped at her wrists. It was more of an underwear-like garment, but it revelled nothing nor pushed the boundaries of modesty, and underneath it she wore her plain green bodice for support for her breasts, so she was not in any means 'naked'. Her leggings and boots were placed upon their rightful places though, and Niphrediel cherished the feeling of the material between her legs that a skirt did not grant. Niphrediel also liked much that the many scratches and sleeves covered bruises on her arms. 

She quickly pulled a tail of her damp hair back, tying it at the back of her head with a black thong, before walking out of the infirmary and straight into the bulk of Aragorn who had just reached for the handle of the door at the same time. 

Letting out a short gasp, Aragorn took two quick steps back, while Niphrediel helplessly fell straight back onto her behind with a quiet thump. 

Niphrediel cringed, swallowing a startled gasp as she hit the ground, cursing herself mentally as she registered what had happened when she found herself looking up at the apologetic and rather daunting face of Aragorn. 

"Good morning, gentle brother." Niphrediel said, sarcasm reeking from her tone as she hesitantly gathered herself back up to her feet. 

Aragorn simply looked at her, yet Niphrediel could see something flash in his eyes. Was he angry at something? At her? Niphrediel could only wonder, until her attention spanned when she saw a small group of male Quendi standing behind him. 

Niphrediel raised an eyebrow; giving a bow to the elves, while shooting Aragorn a confused stare. 

"Estel?"- 

"Come on, Niphrediel." He said, his voice gentle yet his expression drained of gentleness which made his features look sharp and his skin more worn. The expression did not suite him well. It looked as if he were sick. 

Niphrediel frowned, "Aragorn"— 

"This is Haldir, of Lorien," Aragorn said, interrupting her sentence and train of thought. 

To the elf that Aragorn spoke of, Niphrediel gave another brief nod, "I am Niphrediel, daughter of Arathorn. Mae Govannen, Haldir." From the corner of her eye, Niphrediel saw Aragorn lower his head. What was amiss?! 

"Vendui', arwen en amin." The elf Haldir said, giving a warm and polite gesture with his hand over his heart. He looked then away from the human girl, and to his company of three behind him, all fair with golden hair and sparkling eyes. One, of whom seemed the more least experienced of them all, Niphrediel admitted, was _almost _as fair as Glorfindel. The elf would probably be in the same category as Legolas. 

Haldir whispered something to the bad of Aragorn's ear, which made Aragorn look a little confused for a moment, his eyes slightly blank. "Ah…. very well. Change of plans, Niphrediel." He said, turning back to her. 

Niphrediel frowned, "Huh? So, we're not going anywhere?" 

"No, no, no, our course seems to have changed," He replied turning to the elven leader. "Where it is that we are asked to go, I know not. That is why Haldir and his company will guide us there, as the elf just informed me." 

Haldir nodded, his stare penetrating into Niphrediel's face like a dagger, "My lord Aragorn, is the girl ill? I have seen snow with more colour then her cheeks." He asks, his question making Niphrediel lower her head in slight shame. 

Aragorn looked momentarily at Niphrediel, not seeming to see anything out of the ordinary, though he now noticed more her alabaster colouring. At least when they were back in Rivendell Niphrediel was usually shrouded in the light of candles…. of which Aragorn thought actually made her look rather becoming. If he did not say so himself, of course…but, then again, Niphrediel could've been horrible to the eye and Estel would still see beauty somewhere. 

"She is still a little ill…. infection perhaps," Aragorn mumbled, subtly coming to his sist—Niphrediel's defence, before turning his stare away once more. "Should we now be on our way?" 

Haldir's attention was then placed onto the activity now at hand, of which confirmed by his diligent nod before he began to walk back, his group of edhil following him without any hesitation. 

Aragorn, though, watched the elves slowly walking down the stairs of the porch, seeming rather timid to follow. He sighed, eyes lowering to the floor from the last elf's lean back. 

Niphrediel frowned, walking to the door and putting a hand on his shoulder, "Aragorn, are you well?" 

Her frown did not smoothen nor dim in the lightest when Aragorn turning his shoulder away from her hand. 

"I am fine, Nieninquë." He said, his voice tired and quiet, before he walked from her to follow the elves. Niphrediel almost forgot to do so also until he turned back and waved for her to follow, braking her moment of frowning and thought. 

Niphrediel followed, as instructed. She walked blindly with her eyes always to the ground where her next steps were made. The elves were leading them into the wild, the bush and forest around them confirming the thought. They also seemed to be going uphill, which Niphrediel noted quite early. 

The trees around them were tall and well branched and generously leafed, shrouding them all in shade, to Niphrediel's benefit she was sure. Being outside so often at daylight, wether in shade or no, Niphrediel had noticed, was doing her quite well. 

Despite what the elf had said about her complexion, Niphrediel had noticed she was a little darker. Only a little bit more, but Niphrediel had noticed the change and thought it quite remarkable. It was not very enjoyable being more pale then white porcelain, nor did it help that the darkness of her hair seemed to drain even more colour from her skin…. if that were possible. 

Nieninquë kept her thoughts to herself, as it seemed they all did. Something was wrong with Aragorn. Perhaps he missed the Evenstar, perhaps he was in doubt. Perhaps he was just plagued with thoughts that Niphrediel should respect and not try to predict. She could not help it. She was only human, after all. 

It was not too long in the log jumping and uphill-hiking that Niphrediel slowly began to become bored. The forest seemed to span forever. 

Though, that was just before the elves walked through to a wall of vines flung over the high, but droopy, branch of a great Willow. The company of elves stopped and looked back to the two humans, waiting patiently for them to come closer. 

"Why have we stopped?" Estel asked, his brow furring in a frown. "Is there any trouble?" 

Haldir shook his head, coming forth from his place at the front. Niphrediel's eyes narrowed on his face. Something seemed wrong…no, not wrong…strange… Something strange was at work here, but she had not the foresight to behold it. 

Niphrediel raised an eyebrow, but kept silent. 

Haldir sighed, glancing at his comrades with an assuring nod before looking to both Niphrediel and Aragorn as the elves began to walk behind them. Taking a step back, away from the vines, Haldir nodded once more. 

"Take another step forward," He said. "Do not worry, just do as I say." 

Aragorn took a step forward practically immediately, but Niphrediel was not so instant. She was suspicious….she could feel something wasn't right…..at the bottom of her gut she could feel it. It made her sick. 

Her eyes narrowed once more on the commanding elf, as if doing so would, in some way, give her end to her suspiciousness. 

Haldir only nodded to her, his eyes lowering as he took another step forward, as if in some kind of strange respect. "A step forward, child." He said, yet now his voice wasn't so light. 

"Come, Niphrediel," Aragorn sighed, annoyed at her hesitation. 

It was more out of Aragorn's reaction then her conscience that made her take another step forward. She did not want him to be frustrated with her, so she did what she was told like an obedient puppy, despite her own desire. 

Niphrediel heard the crunching of leaf and grass under her boots as she took the step forward. The wall of vines, thick and green-leafed, created a curtain less then an inch from her nose, and Niphrediel swallowed the urge to part the veil and take a peak through to see what was on the other side…and yet she did not…for there was some part in her that was weary. 

Though she did not turn her head, her eyes moved to their corners to look at Aragorn. He seemed calmer then she was, if not slightly a little curious and confused. His eyes of mixed grey and blue searched the leaves in front of him, before they sensed the stare of Niphrediel and looked back at her. His face was blank, but he offered a weak, but meaningful smile. 

The gesture settled Niphrediel for a moment, just as Aragorn had thought it would, and for that moment Niphrediel lost her restlessness……that was, until the elf behind Aragorn pushed him. 

Aragorn's eyes widened, and his mouth opened to let out a gasp and curse as he was pushed forward through the vines….into the SUNLIGHT!! He seemed to fall straight down, though Niphrediel could also hear him sliding down rock, which gave evidence that he wasn't falling down……but rolling down. Niphrediel couldn't see, for after the vines were parted, they almost magically fell back into their previous places, in opposite direction of the current breeze. 

Niphrediel's lips parted, eyes widening shock and horror. She quickly turned around, moving away from the vines, a frown on her forehead as she looked to the elf who had pushed him. "Why did you"— 

Before she knew it, Haldir stepped forward and grabbed onto the front of her shift (for now that she had turned around, her back faced the vines) and lifted her off her feet. 

Haldir frowned and took a step forward, seeming to carry the weight of the youth as if she were nothing. 

Niphrediel cringed, too terrified to cry, as she looked back to oncoming doom, then back to the face of the elf she got closer and closer. "Please!" She screamed, "Put me down! The sun burns me, if I am directly under it, it will be death!!" 

Haldir shook his head, pitying Niphrediel. Did he know? Niphrediel frowned. Why would elves seek to hurt her?! "I was ordered to do this from the Lord Celeborn; The Lord of Light and this haven of my kin. His word overrules all others, save the Lady Galadriel's." 

Niphrediel shook her head, her desperation igniting her emotions like fire. "Please," She cried, her hands clenched over his as if she would try and pry open his hands from her shift. "Please! Kill me, not." 

_"NIPHREDIEL!"_Aragorn's voice boomed down from behind the vines to a place far bellow. _"HALDIR! NO! NO! LEAVE HER BE!" _He cried, pleading. His voice so loud it echoed. 

_Someone help me! _Niphrediel begged, _Ilúvatar, help me…please! Oh Eru do notkill me, please. Boromir! Gimli, Legolas, hobbits! Glorfindel please!!_

Haldir seemed to hesitate, and Niphrediel used that to her advantage without any proper thought. She lashed out with her leg, putting her boot against his chest to allow her to push herself down, do he was forced to drop her on the ground. Just before he let her go, though, Niphrediel kicked him once more in the stomach. He let out a groan and seemed to be winded. Once released, Niphrediel rolled onto her feet, took one look at the elves about to grab her, and ran to the side into the trees, which was in the only direction where no elves stood. 

_They're elves! You cannot outrun elves! _Nevertheless, Niphrediel tried. 

Her feet, very quick in human terms, were no match. Niphrediel ran through the trees, dodging them and jumping over fallen logs while listening to her weeping panting. 

_I'm going the wrong way!! _Niphrediel quickly turned, sprinting left. She did not care what way she was going. She had to escape. She _had _to survive. 

_Glorfindel!_Niphrediel cried, weeping as she ran. Maybe Glorfindel could hear her. Maybe he could hear her plea. After all, elves had amazing hearing, both telepathically and physically. In a childhood book written by an unknowing mortal Niphrediel remembered that the elf in it heard his friend's voice from……… over fifty leagues away……… 

Niphrediel's eyes widened, and she took in a deep breath before opening her mouth and screaming, as loud as she possibly could, "**Legolas!!!**" In her blind screaming, Niphrediel accidentally tripped on a fallen branch and fell down a short, muddy overhang. 

_Legolas! Legolas! Legolas! Legolas!_

Niphrediel could hear her voice echoing from her place on the grassy ground where she had landed, her temple lying on top of the greenery, aching and pounding. _Oh please hear me, Greenleaf. _Her eyes unfocused for a moment, as Niphrediel found herself about to black out, and yet she woke up and slowly gathered herself up to her feet and began to run again. 

Oh yes, Niphrediel ran. She ran an entire three steps before she was picked up roughly from behind from the elf that Niphrediel had _once _thought could almost be matched by Glorfindel's majesty. Now, Niphrediel couldn't have thought of a demon more ugly. But, then again, she thought she was going to die. 

He carried her easily, and skilfully, for no matter how much Niphrediel screamed and kicked and lashed out, his hold on her never loosened. Niphrediel also noticed the little distance she had made from the vines. And yet she thought she had been running for quite some time. 

The elf let out a short sigh, giving a nod to Haldir and the other elves that seemed unmoved, waiting for him, and slowly walked to the wall. 

Niphrediel looked down at him from her unusual position in his arms and watched as a tear dropped from her jaw, onto his cheek bellow. The broken tear ran down his cheek too, as if it were his own. His attention momentarily moved, and he looked up, his eyes locking onto her own, it's pull too powerful for Niphrediel to avoid. His face, cold and hard, momentarily softened, and an apologetic smile curved the shape of his lips and, as softly as the distant sound of the beach, he whispered, "I'm sorry." 

This did not make Niphrediel feel better. It did not make her 'understand' or any such thing. Now that he had said sorry, was she supposed to think it right or abide by it? 

Nieninquë wanted to just spit on his crown for that. But, her moment of silence was broken once more when the elf took a breath and lifted her higher, ready to throw her. His arms tensed, and Niphrediel sobbed as she felt him about to let go. 

And then it all went silent, save the sound of an arrow being nocked and the stretching of an arrow string. 

They all heard it. All at the same time. Such was the stealth of the Greenwood prince. 

"Put her down." 

Niphrediel let out a long sigh, closing her eyes as tears of relief were shred. 

Legolas stood, his arrow a mere inch from the elf's temple. The other elves could only look on, defenceless for once. 

Niphrediel opened her mouth, the residue of a sob coming out with her breath. "L-L-Legol"- 

"Shhh, Niphrediel," Legolas whispered, his stare not taking the chance to move to her at that moment, his voice changing remarkably from the orderly, demanding and hard tone of his warrior self, and the quiet, gentle voice of the gentle elf he really was. 

Niphrediel nodded, but frowned when she noticed that the elf's hold had not softened in the least. Legolas noticed that too, and he once more tightened the grip of his arrow. 

"Let. Her. Go." 

The elf looked to Legolas, or rather the arrow now a mere centimetre from his eye. "You do not want to do that, Thranduilion." 

"Nor do you want to stand against me, Herendilion. To that I swear to you. Now, put her down." 

The elf nodded and a smirk came upon his mouth, and he nodded, "As you wish, prince." And thus he let her go. But not without a hard flick of his hands. A flick that caused Niphrediel to fall outwards rather then down. 

"Niphrediel!" Legolas shouted, as Niphrediel fell backwards through the vines. 

Light momentarily blinded her, but Niphrediel was rolling, and it had not had its chance to scorn her. Her back hit rock, and she began to roll backwards, her body feeling hollow as she did, and light weighted, for she couldn't stop herself. 

She could hear Aragorn's voice as she continued to roll, until she felt nothing back air under her body. Though, as quickly as the feeling came, Niphrediel fell—boom—flat onto the stone bottom. And, as she opened her eyes, it was just about then when she was convinced that she was going to perish. 

She looked up and screamed, momentarily blinded by light so strong to her sensitive sight. 

"No!" Aragorn cried out, reaching out to her from his place on the stone ground, his leg caught between two rocks, tears blinding his eyes as he did so, and yet they promised not to fall. _Not again, please Eru, _he thought, _do not hurt her again. _

Niphrediel looked to Aragorn, the sun bedding down on her, "I'm going to die"— 

"No your not!"' 

Niphrediel nodded, and Aragorn shook his head, trying looking about himself for anything he could use, but failing miserably. Any onlooker would've pointed out that Aragorn could've used his tunic or any other piece of clothing, but something had eliminated that very thought from his minds. Something that did not want Niphrediel to live, maybe, or perhaps something that just wanted Niphrediel to realise something. 

Niphrediel cried, preparing herself for death so much that she did not realise that death wasn't on its way. Niphrediel wept, holding up her hand to the sky, waiting for it to burn. 

It did not. 

Niphrediel looked at her hand in disbelief, and began to cry, never taking her gaze off it. 

_Its real! Its real!_

When she closed her eyes, amongst her sobs, she felt Aragorn's arms come around her. 

**_Niphrediel._**

Niphrediel opened her eyes. Who was that man? His voice was……a stranger to her. Who was he? 

**_Welcome to the light, child. I am sorry you had not come to me sooner._**

_Who are you?_

**_You will see me._**

_But I still won't know who you are!_

**_I assure you, child. You will._**

But— 

**_You will._**

That was when Niphrediel began to feel sick and her head began to lighten. That was when her eyes closed and the light within engulfed her. That was when she fainted. 

And thus, a discovery had been made. 

Was it the healing of Lorien that had given Niphrediel this gift, or someone within it? What magical means had been cast over her? 

Niphrediel did not know. She was too spellbound to actually enjoy what she had been given. 

After the screaming from the hollow the elves had pushed the two mortal's in had come to an end, the elven company released Legolas from their holds and allowed him to part the vines. Though, instead of rolling down the stone wall as the humans did, the elf preferred to run his light feet across it while the elves watched on, relieved that they had done their task despite the barriers. 

Haldir sighed, the elves at his flanks doing the same as they watched Thranduilion help take out the leg of Isildur's Heir from two heavy rocks from the centre of the stone plane, of which had once been called the 'Circle of Stone' in years long passed. 

Herendilion, or properly named Herentur also let out a sigh of his own before looking to his leader beside him. "Should we help them?" He asked. 

Haldir hesitated before asking, keeping the vines parted with his hand so that the happenings beyond could be seen properly. _I suppose the least thing we could do is carry the girl, _Haldir thought, as Aragorn picked her up from the ground, burying his face in the black hair upon her shoulder and cradling her like a baby. 

The elves had scared him, Haldir knew. He thought his child would be killed; one of the most powerful fears Haldir could imagine, regardless that he had not his own. 

Haldir watched as the mortal man slowly sank to his knees, holding the poor girl so tight it seemed to almost be the means for him to never be able to let go. The shoulders of the Dúnadan shook as he wept, hidden from view by the girl's 

"We will wait here," Haldir said. "When they reach us we will lead them back." 

Herentur nodded, "Will the mortal not want us to carry the girl instead?" 

Haldir shook his head; "I doubt the mortal would want any one to so much as touch the girl at this moment, mellon." 

Soron, beside Herentur, frowned, lowering his fair head to the ground. As his crystallin eyes scanned the grass bellow, he embodied the expression of one sad. "Do they see us as enemies, Haldir?" 

"That is not what we are, Soron," said Haldir. "Aragorn now knows why we were told to do this. And if anything, I am sure he is grateful that we have bared this discovery. He is just recovering from"— 

"The fear of loss," Herentur concluded. And thus, the group remained silent. 

Glorfindel? 

_Nieninquë._

_Am I dreaming?_

_Hahahahahaha, of course you are._

_Oh…_

_Never fear. I'm dreaming, too._

_You are?_

_Of course. How else will I be able to reach you?_

_…very well._

_It does not matter, Nien. How are you?_

_…I miss you._

_Aw, do you?_

_Yes._

_I miss you, too. _

Why can you not be here with me? 

_You miss me _that_ much?_

_Yes._

_You have to stay with your brother._

_He will be leaving tomorrow. Follow him, I cannot._

_Well……you need to stay in Caras Galadhon a little longer._

_I do not want to._

_Come on._

_I miss you._

_Gwilwileth, I am with you always._

_Don't give me any of that, Glorfindel._

_Well, what can I say?_

_…I do not know._

_Well…how are you?_

_I saw the sun._

_You did, did you??_

_You do not seem surprised._

_We will talk about that later. How was it? The sun, I mean._

_Bright…scary._

_Scary? Have no fear of it, but do not release yourself into it too quickly. Your skin is not used to its rays, it will burn easily. Perhaps there is a healer there that may make a lotion in the means of skin protection?_

_Maranwé?… I'll ask._

_Hmmm…no no no, I think there will be no need to ask._

_How is my naneth?_

_She misses you._

_I miss her more, I assure thee._

_Hehe, she will be pleased to know that._

_And my lord Adar?_

_He is troubled with business between he and his daughter, but he fairs well. As he does._

_And Arwen?_

_…_

_I can hear your eyebrow raising, but I wish an answer. How is she?_

_I never thought you would ask, Niphrediel._

_…_

_You know I understand naught why your love for her dwindled. You were in utter love of her as a child._

_I only saw her a couple times—_

_And on those occasions when she did visit you never parted from her, not once. There is some half of me that understands, and yet the other is confused. She completely loved you, too. She still does, completely._

_Yes, well that was before I had the pleasure of realising her relationship with my keeper._

_You would not want her to be his?_

_I do not understand it._

_What is that?_

_A mortal and an elf. I do not understand how-- _

_What? People could say the same about our relationship, Niphrediel. As well as the one you share with my Lord and Ivanneth._

_But—_

_I am just giving you this insight, Niphrediel. Love was something neither Arwen nor Estel could fight—_

_I wish not want to hear this._

_—Nor could they ever. Despite race and age._

_What was the point of that?_

_I just wanted to tell you that she cares about you too, Nieninquë _

_…very well._

_She sends her love, and her care._

_……Tell her the same._

_Wake up, Niphrediel._

_What?_

_Wake up._

_Wake up?_

_Wake up._

"Wake up." 

Niphrediel stirred, frowning in her sleep. Someone was shaking her shoulder, rousing her from her enforced sleep. 

"Wake up, Niphrediel. Awake." 

"Legolas?" Her voice came out in a coarse whisper, and Niphrediel coughed and cleared her throat several times to get rid of it. Her eyes opened, and when Niphrediel blinked she good feel sleep in the corners of them. 

Legolas loomed over her, dressed ready to leave in his tunic and belt, his quiver on his back empty over his pack. The hilts of his knifes could glinted underneath the dying candlelight of the dim-lightened sick room, and even in Niphrediel's drowsiness she still wanted to play with them. 

_Glorfindel? _No reply. It was just a dream. Niphrediel sighed, disappointed. 

Legolas threw a green robe on Niphrediel as she yawned and sat up on the bed. Niphrediel groaned, removing the heavy satin draped over her head, but could not help laughing quietly. 

"What time is this? You shouldn't be here." Niphrediel said, frowning slightly, "You should be gone." 

Legolas gave a little smile, "Well, I _will _be leaving. But, if you do not hurry up and get up then I will not be able to get this done." 

"Wha"— 

"Just get up and put the robe on. It is quite cold for the night is ending." Legolas beamed, before bowing and jogging outside with Beren (of whom Niphrediel had not noticed) following him like an excited puppy. 

Niphrediel lifted the heavy covers from her body and stood up. She was wearing cloths she did not remember putting on, her hair brushed and all braided into thick braids, thinning it out. Niphrediel patted the loose white tunic she wore, and the matching loose trousers. Niphrediel imagined these were an outfit that Ivanneth referred to as 'pyjamas'. It was quite nice, too! Niphrediel wanted a more pairs so that she wouldn't have to sleep in another nightgown again. 

Niphrediel quickly put on the green robe. She did not do up the claps, wearing it more as a long, heavy cloak with sleeves, really. She eyed the white slippers in the corner and threw them on when she could hear the beckoning barks of Beren calling to her from beyond the porch. 

Niphrediel quickly ran to the door, opening it and walking out into the lightened darkness. The illuminative glow of the trees prevented it from ever being dark, but the sky showed it all the same. 

Legolas and Beren waited in the front yard, and Niphrediel hurried down the porch steps to them, wiping the sleep from her eyes. 

"Curses!" Legolas hissed to himself, looking at the sky and seeing something completely different. He looked down to Beren in an almost comical way, despite his absolute seriousness. "We'll have to hurry." 

Niphrediel raised an eyebrow, laughing, "Are you ill?" She jested. 

Legolas shook his head and simply held out a black blindfold to her. "Put it on!" He beamed, like a child. 

Niphrediel looked at the black cloth, shaking her head, "Um, I think not." 

"Come on!" He beckoned. 

Niphrediel laughed, "No! I wish not to blind myself." 

Legolas sighed, "Fine. Then I shall do it for you," He groaned, before putting the blindfold over her eyes despite her arguments and the times she pushed him away. In the end, though, Niphrediel gave in. She was a little angry, but tried to swallow it down. He was going to leave, and she would miss his company, of which surprised her! It would be worse enough missing her brother when she made light friends with the elf, too. 

Niphrediel couldn't see, but she could navigate where she was going good enough. Though, once she was being lead through what seemed to be a plain of grass, she was lost. 

What was quite surprising was that she did not trip. Not once. She never stepped where she should not have, and she knew she wouldn't. She had a stupendous guide, it seemed. 

Soon, the crunching of her footsteps came to a stop and Niphrediel brought her hands up to undo the loose knot behind her head when there came no argument for her to not do so. 

Niphrediel slowly took the blindfold off, and her brow arced. 

Though the vines had been tied back to the tree, Niphrediel recognised where she stood immediately. 

"Interesting choice," She mumbled, looking to her side when she felt Beren's nose trying to find her fingers in the large, dangling mass of her sleeve. 

There was night here, rather then the midnight glow in the heart of Caras Galadhon. Here it was dark, and some how, Niphrediel preferred it that way. 

Legolas nodded beside her, before sitting down on the edge of the rather daunting overhang that gave Niphrediel overbearing memories. He pointed absently before sitting down on the edge, letting his legs hang still over it. "West," He said. "Where my kindred sail away into the land of everlasting bliss." 

Niphrediel did not say anything, hesitantly sitting down as well. "Why are we here?" She asked, frowning. 

Legolas shrugged. He was somewhere else now. He was no longer with her. He was staring off into the air, in a half daze, his mind in a peaceful wonder stated by the surreal smile on his lips. 

Niphrediel did not click her fingers or try to get his attention. She stared off into the distance to, pulling the robe around her as a chill made its way through her. Her breath marked the air as it came out, but it wasn't cold enough for her to shiver. 

"I had a dream tonight," Mumbled Niphrediel, thinking aloud. 

Legolas nodded, "Did you? What was it about?" 

Niphrediel sighed, shaking her head sadly as she remembered, "I was by a pond with Glorfindel….we were just talking and throwing bread to the ducks in the water." 

Legolas smiled, looking back at Beren and waving him over, "Then it was a good dream at least." 

Niphrediel frowned….her dream was too real to not be fiction. She _was _speaking to Glorfindel….and he was speaking back. "Legolas?" 

"Yes." 

Niphrediel shrugged, wondering, "Can people have dreams…..about things that are happening…Can someone speak to someone else in there dreams?" 

Legolas absently nodded, "I believe there are some people who can have that gift. In elves its is an ability given lightly." He said, then spoke no more as Beren began to move over. 

Beren perched himself beside his master, rather then his mistress, and followed the line and stared off also into the sky also. 

Lorien was truly beautiful. All elvish dwellings were. Elves were just going to leave the things the built so heartedly and let Man abuse it with untouched time and nature's harsh dominance. Niphrediel positively shuddered to imagine Imladris, abandoned and wretched. It's magnificence but mere memories that all, or at least all that was left, had left for forgotten. 

Ivanneth….Glorfindel…..Elrond……………..Arwen. Niphrediel sighed and shook her head. 

"Legolas? Legolas wake up." Niphrediel whispered, turning her head to the elf, his profile glowing in the mixtures of light. It was times like these where Niphrediel remembered his place. She forgot the majesty of Elves sometimes. Their wisdom. The years they had seen that she could not have even dreamed of. Elves were so much greater; it was too easy to either love or fear them. 

Niphrediel frowned, watching a grand smile come over Legolas's face as a grand golden light beamed down upon it. Niphrediel's eyes widened, for they knew where the light was coming from, and the pure truth of it made them water. 

Niphrediel's heart stopped and she felt her stomach tighten and drop. Niphrediel could basically see it jumping down the overhang and hitting the stone bottom. 

A sunrise. She was going to see a sunrise. An actual sunrise. 

Niphrediel began to shake. Though it looked like she was shivering, she had completely forgotten about the cold. Niphrediel thought back to her bedroom in Imladris, and the painting of a sunrise upon the mantelpiece of her fireplace. She remembered growing up, thinking that was the closest thing to an actual sunrise she'd ever have. 

The sun came out. Oh did it come out. It shone down on Niphrediel's face as if embracing an infant it had lost for so long. Niphrediel could feel Anor's warmth. His blessing and love. She could somehow hear his apology. He did not want to hurt her. He would never want to. She was a child of the Sun unrightfully taken from him and he had missed her. She closed her eyes, never knowing that she would ever be able to do such. It was so beautiful. 

All her pain had not been in vain. The years spent away from the lighted world. The scars, the cloaks, the hoods, the ointments, the pain. She had gotten what she finally deserved….But why? How? Niphrediel did not really want to think of it. Joy had never come in this variety. 

Niphrediel smiled and silently wept, but there were no tears to mark that she was crying in happiness. 

Legolas smiled, moving his knees up for his arms to hang off; a favourite sitting position for him, Niphrediel had noticed. He continued to watch the sunrise, pleased with himself. His mother had once said 'it is better to give then to receive'. That was the type of person she was, and so it seemed correct that Legolas inherited some of that. 

Niphrediel looked neither away nor blinked, but Legolas noticed her movements, having the sight that he did, but he did not move nor respond. Niphrediel embraced him; though being beside each other would've meant she would've had to turn to put her arms around him, but being such an important moment, Niphrediel could not tear her gaze away from the sun. Instead, Niphrediel moved over and embraced him in another way. Her head tilted bellow his chin, her cheek against his shoulder. 

Though there was meaning in her hugs, the impact of them were light and irrelevant. It did not matter to either of them, but her gesture was sweet, meaning to show thanks and appreciation. Legolas knew this, and took it nostalgically, but still with a smile that slowly dimmed. 

Niphrediel hesitated before putting the full weight of her head on a stranger's shoulder. It was strange…like a step back in time when Niphrediel was a short, reserved, little baby, and Glorfindel was……..Glorfindel. 

"Niphrediel?" 

Niphrediel frowned; surprised that silence had been brought to a pause. "Hmm?" 

"One day……when I follow my kin over the sea……will you tell people about me?" Legolas's voice was a mere whisper, but it was clear and unwavering. 

Niphrediel frowned. "What are you talking about?" 

Legolas looked down, as if he wanted to put his face in his hands. "Gandalf was there…..and then, like that, he was gone," he said, "Yes, there were laments, and all mourn his absence, but……" 

Niphrediel nodded. "But….??" 

"But his grandness…..his kindness…..his stature…." Legolas frowned, his voice coming to an awkward silence as if he had forgotten what he was supposed to say, "it will all be forgotten, despite it all. Maybe not in this age, but the next……That is what is going to happen to elf-kind. One day, we will all be forgotten." 

Niphrediel grimaced, moving her head and seat so that she still sat close beside the elf, but she could look up to him. His face was hard, and his eyes seemed to glisten with tears of anger, his stare seemed now a glare, and Niphrediel bit back the urge to back away. 

"One day, we will be myth," He said, through clenched teeth. "One day our very existence will be fiction. One day people will laugh at the thought of any Legolas of the Greenwood." 

"But that day is not today," Niphrediel said, slowly, gently, surprising herself that she had said the words aloud. 

"All the more still," said Legolas, turning his stare on her. "Will you tell your children about me, when I am gone?" Despite it all, he still managed his sweet smile, "Wether or not they are of your blood, of course." 

Niphrediel lowered her eyes in laughter she deemed more appropriate internal, but her smile and slight blush at the thought of her having children showed her response to his sweet sarcasm. _Children? Ha! Yeah right._

Though, now there was the large implication demolished (if she ever had the chance at something such), now all Niphrediel would have to change about herself would _be_ herself. Though, even then, Niphrediel knew she'd be the aunt, not the mother. Just like in a play…. some (the lucky ones) get to be the two leads. The leading male and the leading female. And then, there is the supporting cast…. Niphrediel would be in that category. And strangely, that was where Niphrediel felt more comfortable in. She did not want to be any leading lady. She just wanted to be…. her. 

Niphrediel nodded, and it seemed the weight of the world seemed to slip off his shoulders. "And what will I say?" Niphrediel frowned. 

Legolas looked away, to the sky, before giving a small smile to something within his own extensive memory. He leaned on his arm, about to get up. 

"That I lived," He said, simply, with a bright smile, before standing up and leading the way back. 

Niphrediel nodded, before following. 

She followed Legolas, of who travelled down in a light jog back deep inside the city, to the dock. 

Niphrediel watched the Fellowship get their gifts from the Lady of Light: the Lady of Lorien. She couldn't take her eyes from her, but she did, however, when she spoke to Aragorn, her attention on the jewel about his neck rather then anything else. It was soon after that when she saw him. 

She was too far away to hear what he was saying to the Fellowship, but the elves at his flanks placed cloaks bound by a leaf broach upon each member. It was before the Fellowship moved off, when he looked at her. 

Time seemed to stop for a moment or two and when she looked closer and her eyes momentarily defocused, the white light of the elf foreign to her eyes, before she could see him properly. He stood tall and unbelievably regal, his robe of white cascading to the ground, and his silver hair shinning as it hanged in straight strands on both sides of his fair face. 

He bowed his head to her, in a way that was almost like he was telling her it was truly he, in case she wasn't sure. He even gave her a quick smile, or at least the corners of his mouth did. There was only one face that Niphrediel wanted to see other then his, and that face was one she would never, ever be able to see again. At least not in this life. 

That was all she was given for now, and she was content with that. Time came back, and continued to pass without hesitation after that, and Niphrediel just continued to watch. 

She watched the Lord Elf take Estel away from the company as they put their equipment into three boats, and she watched as Estel was given an arced dagger, or at least something of the sort. 

"Lord Celeborn speaks with Isildur's Heir," Whispered an elf standing on the large root of a tree somewhat behind Niphrediel. Just close enough to be in earshot of her. 

"They are being tracked. He is just letting them know," Said his partner. 

Niphrediel's lips parted. They were being tracked? 

"Niphredili!" 

Niphrediel turned her head, walking forward in direction of the person who had called her name, or at least something like it. 

Merry and Pippin waved from where they sat happily on a boat. 

"Hello, Niphredili," Beamed Pippin. 

Niphrediel smiled, waving to them, "Hello boys. Ready for the trip?" 

Merry nodded, "Yes."— 

"We won't get hurt again, will we?" Pippin frowned, rubbing a scratch on his elbow. 

Merry shock his head, "Who knows Pippin?" 

"Well, we can always steal Boromir's shield and hide under it if harm comes our way," Giggled Pippin, replied with an elbow in the stomach from Merry. 

The hobbits became quiet as Legolas came over and inspected a pouch near them. Merry and Pippin watched absently as the elf opened it and displayed a flat-based bread. Legolas smiled and looked to the hobbits, "_Lembas_," said he, taking a tiny bit, "One bite is enough to full the stomach of a grown man." Putting the piece back, he moved away. 

Merry raised an eyebrow before looking to Pippin. "How many did you eat?" He asked. 

Pippin thought for a moment before replying. "Four," He said, taking a moment before cursing the air with a fart. 

Niphrediel laughed, and moved away before the smell had time to reach her. 

Gimli nodded, holding up his axe to her as she walked passed. Niphrediel smiled and waved, but she did not say a formal goodbye to him. Something told her the dwarf did not want to be riddled with one as he left. His mind was somewhere else entirely. 

Niphrediel did not receive a smile from Frodo. The poor hobbit looked like he wanted to be sick. His pale, once bright, blue eyes stared at her, and she could see his pain. Niphrediel did not have good eyesight in the least, but anyone who looked at him could see it. 

Niphrediel was suddenly disappointed that she had not become better friends with the Ring bearer. Perhaps she could've helped in some little way. 

She sighed and walked over, unthinking of what she could possibly say. Both Frodo and Sam where about to get into their assorted boats, but Frodo moved away from his craft as Niphrediel seemed to walk in his direction. 

"Hello," He said, his voice small, unconfident. 

Niphrediel nodded, moving into a crouch to be able to speak eye-to-eye with him. Frodo was older then her, she did not want to forget. "Hello," She said slowly, before searching his face with a light stare. "Are you well?" 

Frodo nodded, slightly defensive. "I'm fine," He replied, his voice still remaining soft. 

_My world depends on this boy. Hobbit, yes…. but he is still a boy. _Niphrediel nodded. She couldn't say anything of much significance that he would take attentively. Their relationship was not close enough, even though Frodo did only think good thoughts about her. Niphrediel once more was regretful that she had not spent more time with him, but that was all in the past now. Niphrediel did not believe time travel was something that could happen, no matter how hard she tried. 

"Ah…you be careful, now, Frodo….Take care of yourself," Niphrediel nodded, patting the hobbit's shoulder before standing up. She looked down as the hobbit looked up and she suddenly felt like she was looking at him from a high cliff. 

Niphrediel's words must have had some small impact, for a smile suddenly lit Frodo's face and somehow his troubles dissolved from public view. He slowly nodded, and moved away, and as did she. 

Niphrediel walked to Aragorn, somewhat reluctantly. He wasn't turned to her, but she knew he could see she was beside him. He had the eyes of a tracker, after all. She cleared her throat, a little nervous. 

"Don't get hurt. I know it may seem tempting at times, but it really isn't the right answer to your problems," Niphrediel grinned, trying her hand at humour. 

Aragorn nodded, "Yes. I forget you're the one that does that." 

Niphrediel smiled, walking him over to his boat that he hesitantly climbed in. 

"I mean it," She whispered, her voice low in case some one was trying to hear it, crouching on a tree root that was used as a dock to hope into Aragorn's boat. "If you get hurt, I will kill you." 

Aragorn smiled a wavering himself, making himself comfortable in his seat with Frodo and Sam. He simply picked up a hand that was resting on her knee and brought it to his mouth and lightly kissed it. 

"I fear your wrath too much to ever do that," He replied slowly back, which made a clump rise in her throat. _Would this be the last time I see him again? Will he return? _Niphrediel frowned, focusing all thought on her change of topic. _I love you, Estel._

Estel nodded, glancing away as Legolas and Gimli settled down in there boat. Boromir with the more mischievous hobbits slowly pushed off from the dock. They were leaving. 

Aragorn's boat slowly pulled back with the current created by Boromir's boat, and Estel's fingers slowly slide out of Niphrediel's reach til all she could do was watch as they slowly made their way away. 

She was a little surprised when someone looked back, the only one that seemed rather pleased. The elf seemed to look about before seeing her and gave her a wave. 

Niphrediel shook her head, hopelessly, with a silly grin on her face and mimicked his wave. 

Then, Legolas seemed to pat his heart, nodding for her to do the same. 

Niphrediel raised an eyebrow, mumbled, "Queer elf," Under her breath before she did as he seemed to instruct and found that the robe she wore had a pocket. With her eyebrow still in check, Niphrediel put her hand in the pocket and pulled out what was inside. 

The elf watched the child's face light up in laughter as she held the simbelmynë in her hand and giggled under his breath. Holding the flower in her hand, the mortal waved at him playfully, like someone would when they were saying 'scram' to a stray cat. 

"Come on, Elf, we are falling behind!" Puffed the dwarf, looking back to see the turned head of his companion. Gimli raised an eyebrow, puffing once more with a burst of his breath. "Come now, Elf! Eyes to the front, eyes to the front!" Gimli instructed, making absurd gestures to the water in front of them. 

Legolas nodded, turning back, with a happy grin on his face, "Alright then, Master Dwarf, let's catch up." 

Gimli grinned, before sighing and continuing on with his daydreams as the elf behind him pressed on, pretending to have his mind on matters of the future, rather then the things that had just happened. 

_What happens to me now? _Niphrediel could only wonder, as she watched her keeper and his company leave. It does not matter now, she thought. Not yet, anyway. 

Niphrediel just continued to watch in her comfortable crouch, the face of the flower lifted to her nose. 

_Let them be safe. Each and every one of them._

* * *

**Note:** Not at all happy with this chapter, unfortunately. Though, I'm my worst critic so you could prove me wrong. Sorry this took so long, but this was the hardest chapter I've ever written. I don't know why, though….*sigh* Oh! And I purposely set out Neph and Glorfindel's 'dream conversation' like that. After Neph set the scene after it happened, you could get a better idea about what was happening. And! The silly lil' song Alfirin—I mean Legolas sings to Neph to make her feel better is a translation I did for 'In Dreams' in the FotR soundtrack. I will be putting up bits and pieces from the TTT's one only when the accounts of FotR are over, naturally. I also tried my hardest in the Neph/Glor conversations both when she was young and no, to show how different Neph has become through the years of maturity. I also wanted to show how close they are by how they speak to each other. I don't know if I did a good job, but trying has to count for something I suppose. 

ALSO! Tell me if I'm doing anything wrong with Legolas and Niphrediel's relationship. I think I haven't done this chapter well in their honour, but as I said, I'm my own worst critic. I tried to make everything as realistic as possible. 

Anyways, hope it didn't suck so back, and thanks for the reviews. I give you permission to kill me for taking so darn long, too. 


	10. Chapter nine: The Call of the Vision

**Chapter nine: The Call of the Vision**

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**Note: **See bottom ^_^ Sorry for any grammar/spelling typos. 

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It had been long since the elves had left the docks, but Niphrediel still remained. She was now perched on the front end of a small boat, her legs hanging off the edge as she stared off down the river that the Fellowship were paddling through, unseen to her eyesight's reach. 

Since not of Elven sort, the faraway expression on her face did not state that she was sleeping, but merely daydreaming. The only sounds that riffled the peaceful silence were the gentle lapping of water against the sides of the boats, and the gentle drumming sound that was made each time the back heel of Niphrediel's boots rubbed against the flank of the boat. 

With her hands at her sides upon the edge, one loosely holding the flower, Niphrediel's only other movement was the soft rising and falling of her chest. She seemed drained, calmly unmotivated. 

Letting out another sigh, Niphrediel's dry mouth opened, and she slowly began to sing as she continued to daydream of what it would be like to live in a more modern, simpler existence, without such a dark curses like sorcery that plagued the shadows of her earth. 

Her voice was more like a steady mumble, since she was, after all, singing on a whim. Niphrediel was no bard, and was not gifted with a terrific singing voice, but she would sometimes hum songs to herself when she was alone, as she was sure many people did. Niphrediel had no idea, though, why she began to sing the particular piece that she did. 

_The leaves were long, the grass was green,_

_The hemlock-umbels tall and fair,_

_And in the glade a light was seen_

_Of stars in shadow shimmering._

_Tinúviel was dancing there_

_To music of a pipe unseen,_

_And light of stars was in her hair,_

_And in her raiment glimmering._

Niphrediel stopped, pained. _Enough about beauty that cannot compete with your sisterly love,_ Niphrediel thought bitterly. With a frown, she sighed, shaking her head to clear her thoughts. She felt like she was trying to punish herself by reminding herself of Estel's romantic situation. Maybe the silly girl was. 

Niphrediel sighed once more, or rather just lengthened the one she was already doing. "Niphrediel you are the unknown sister of Beren!!" Niphrediel exclaimed absurdly to herself, her short-lived laughter only partnered with the sound of departing birds from the trees nearby at the sudden noise. 

When silence returned, Nieninquë quickly sobered, and continued to sigh as she continued to do nothing. 

That was, until Niphrediel's body seemed to fall back, as if pushed, into the deck of the boat, off the thin railing she was once sitting on. 

Too stunned to move, Niphrediel could feel fire storming under her skin, raging against her heart. Was she having a heart attack? Niphrediel's eyes shut tightly, her back arcing as she cried out. With great joy must come great pain, but Niphrediel could never had imagined pain like this. 

She could feel her heart. Each time it made a beat; it was like an eruption in her breast, and Niphrediel found she could not breath. The need for breath slowly made her attention stray after a while, and Niphrediel opened her mouth and tried to take a breath in. 

Then, suddenly, Niphrediel let out a croaking cry, and after the outburst, she sucked in the bitter air, opening her eyes that immediately became blinded by white. The banging in her chest continued, though slowly became less hot as the white Niphrediel could see began to shape. 

Slowly, but surely, the white canvass was slowly splattered with paints of different colours. And that was exactly was it looked like, too; like an animation of a water-coloured painting; blue, green and yellow slowly mixed together, as did pink and white. The blue, green and yellow mingled to create what Niphrediel thought to be nine birds, and the pink and white colours churned into a small mini-necklace that one of the nine birds wore. 

Niphrediel took interest in the birds, as they seemed to fly across their artificial sky. One, a large and rather old-looking one was in the front, leading its little group on. Behind it was a rather beautiful-looking dove, practically radiant, and then two normal sized birds and five rather tiny ones, one of the five with more of a distinction created by its slightly larger size, followed it. The pink flower necklace seemed to fade into the background, slowly dissolving, but Niphrediel was too busy watching the birds to really care. 

They were beautiful, their water coloured wings flapping with each soar, and despite the pain, Niphrediel smiled. She knew who the nine birdies were, strangely. 

She drunkenly held up her hand to touch one. Noticing her for the first time, one of the birds came and began to lightly nibble at her finger, gently so it did not hurt. It was one of the more normal-looking birds. 'Normal' only because there seemed nothing too different about it…. 

After it's little gnaw, it fluttered over above her head, looking at her face with strange interest. That was when something went wrong…something seemed to have attacked it because it suddenly began to bleed, as did the others. Its ripe, red blood poured from its little chest onto Niphrediel face and mouth. Letting out a cry in shock, Niphrediel felt her chest about to burst at the new occurrence. 

Niphrediel turned her head away, tasting the bitter flavour of the bird's metallic blood running down her throat. She brought her hands to her ears to block out the agonising sounds of the dying birds. When she couldn't hear them, she opened her eyes, and when she did so, everything was gone. She could see everything clearly, as she could not have a moment before. She could see she was now lying on the deck of a boat, hands absurdly over her ears. 

Niphrediel put a hand to her chest, which slowly calmed down, and tried to take deep breaths as she did while letting out quiet moans with each one. 

She slowly rolled onto her stomach when she felt she could, and moved onto her feet. She brought a hand to her mouth. There was no blood. She frowned, continuing to touch the skin around her mouth as well. There was no pain. What sorcery had been done here? 

Shaking her head as she quickly jumped out of the boat, Niphrediel felt the pain in her chest sinking to mere memories. Turning, she began to run through the path, gripping her chest as she did. 

_I'm sick! I'm sick! _Niphrediel was only slightly aware that she knew not where on earth she was going, or whom she should go and see about what had just happened. 

Turning her gaze to the mouth of a stairwell, Niphrediel quickly contemplating going up it. Where was everybody!! Lorien's population was not low….where in the Valar's name was everyone? 

"Herentur, of Lorien." 

Niphrediel turned her head, an elf now stood on the stairs she was previously pondering wether to walk up. She shook her head, taking her hand from her chest. "No…Niphrediel, daughter of Arathorn," She corrected; letting out a breath in relief that she had found someone. 

Niphrediel scanned the elf's face…..she had seen him before somewhere before… 

The elf's face brightened, and he lowered it with a shy smile. He was obviously not as old as the others in this Elvendome…though Niphrediel was only judging by his poise. He was not as poised as the other elves Niphrediel had seen here. 

After lifting his head up, the elf shook his head, "No, that is _my _name; _I _am Herentur." 

Niphrediel lowered her head, biting her bottom lip in slight embarrassment, and still not used to the feeling that came when it did not hurt for her to do so. 

"Worry not," Smiled the elf, his voice calling her eyes to look back at him. 

Niphrediel nodded, her thoughts beginning to stray from the recent events and more onto the subject of how pretty the elf was. Niphrediel quickly shook her head, banishing her oh-so feminine thoughts. 

Herentur waited for the rising blush in the girl's cheeks to retreat before he spoke again. He turned back, to walk up the stairs again, before looking back to her and simply nodded. "Come," He said, "They wish to speak with you." 

Niphrediel did not even have to guess who 'they' were. It alarmed her, but even so, she nodded. 

"The walk may be a bit of a struggle if you are not accustomed to it," Herentur smiled, before turning and smoothly began to ascend the silver stairs. 

_If I can conquer Moria, then I shall be able to do this, _Niphrediel thought, before following the elf. She did, however, become less cool as time went on, and her muscles quickly began to warm up with each step higher from the ground. 

With being more focused on the stair in front of her rather then how high she was getting, Niphrediel did not really notice how large this tree was, but when she looked directly up she could see a room on a high branch, and yet that was not where she was going. 

It took less time then Niphrediel thought it would to get to where she was supposed to go. Herentur waited at the top of the stair, and he held out his hand to her, which surprised her a little. 

When Niphrediel met up with him, she hesitantly took his hand. She did wonder why she hesitated. Why she did not really want to touch him. Maybe it was because she did not know him well enough…but since when did she think that it was such a personal gesture just to hold someone's hand? 

His hand was soft, positively the softest skin Niphrediel had ever felt. Even softer then Legolas's hand, which was probably because Herentur was younger, and the years of archery and other such things had slightly worn Legolas's palm and fingers. But, still, Niphrediel would have rather held the archer's hand then the one of this elf's. Legolas's hands were warm, yet Herentur's were not so. But, Niphrediel had to admit, it was probably just because she both knew and liked Legolas much more then Herentur, and was just making excuses as to why one elf was better then the other. 

Herentur smiled and led Niphrediel further onto this platform they were standing on. Niphrediel could see a staircase on the farer end that led to that room in the branches she had seen on her way up. Interesting. 

Herentur lead her to a place in front of a dais, and Niphrediel seemed to shrink as elves began to circle around the parameter of where she stood. 

Niphrediel looked at each face with a heavy frown, anxiety warming her ears and face. Perhaps her muscles tensed, because Herentur noticed her discomfort, and he just smiled. It was a smile wasted, because Niphrediel did not notice it. 

_Why are there so many people? _Herentur tugged on her hand, making Niphrediel look forward and span from her confusing questions. 

When Niphrediel turned, her frown fell short. She brought her hand above her eyes, of which were too accustomed to darker light, as the shining glow of the Lady penetrated into them. 

The Lord and Lady stood on a stair from the dais, looking down at her. Niphrediel wanted to hide behind Herentur, or perhaps run away….she could not decide. The Lady's blue eyes pierced into her soul, and Niphrediel could _feel_ it. Niphrediel was standing in front of the Lady completely naked, bared, for her to see it all. And the Lady _did _see it all. 

_"Niphrediel…Gwilwileth o Imladris…Hiril o Gwaith lîn," _She said, her voice speaking each word as if it were something worth the beauty she unknowingly 

Niphrediel frowned, mid-nod._ "Hiril? Im ú hiril…"_ She said, slowly lowering her head and shaking it. "_Im avol tíro... Le ped neitha o nin, Hiril edhellen._

Galadriel raised an eyebrow _"Im ped ú neitha o le."_

Niphrediel shook her head once more, her hand absently rubbing her left temple that was slowly beginning to ache. "I will be no lady. There are others more fitting for the task then I." She looked at her feet, but Niphrediel could still feel the stare burning into her hair clothing her head. 

Galadriel slowly, hesitantly, drew her fingers away from her husband's as she began to ascend the rest of the way down the steps her feet had not yet graced. 

Niphrediel was very well aware the Lady stood right in front of her, on the very last step. Even with her head still drawn low, the delicately beaded skirt of Galadriel's gown flowed down off the front of the step to a mere centimetre from the top of Niphrediel's boot on the floor. 

Niphrediel did not move, her body stiffening as cool fingertips slowly situated themselves evenly on the bottom rim of her jaw. Niphrediel swallowed down a heavy breath, the Lady's touch almost so light that it was almost unfelt. 

Slowly, Galadriel raised Niphrediel's face. The child gave no hesitation, but few ever did. Galadriel made Niphrediel look up to her, the pull of the Lady's crystal stare drawing in the child's oceanic one. More then a minute, nearly two, went by, and yet the Lady Galadriel still was not satisfied with what she saw. Her search was not yet done. Galadriel cared not for the mortal's slow uneasiness that she could sense resurfacing once more. She was not yet finished. 

But eventually, without warning, the intensity of the Lady Galadriel's stare dwindled, and Niphrediel felt it easier to breath again. The Lady looked at her with sympathy, but for what, Niphrediel could not say. The stories said that the Sorceress of the Golden Wood could see a man's doom…So, could she see Niphrediel's? Could she see Niphrediel's end? Or, since being the Evenstar's grandmother, and knowing Aragorn, did she simply pity Niphrediel because of the loss of Gilraen? If that was the reason, then the Lady's pity came too late. Gilraen had been dead a long time. 

"You will," Galadriel said, her voice neither cold nor warm, nor quiet or loud. 

Niphrediel frowned, probing Galadriel's stare with her own, quietly pressing for her to say more. She knew things what Niphrediel did not, and Niphrediel suddenly found that scary. The recognition that someone else knew what life had in store for her was terrifying. The future itself was terrifying, at least for someone who knew she could lose so much in a matter of time. 

_Tell me what you see. Tell me what you see! Is Estel going to fail? Is darkness going to take over our lands? Am I as insignificant as I feel?! By the Valar, say something! Everything! Anything!_ Niphrediel's eyes pricked with tears and she did not know why. She knew the Lady could hear her. She knew that her pleas were not going unheard. If so, then why was she not being answered! 

"What do you see?" Niphrediel barely let out. Her throat seemed to give, and her voice was the occurrence's victim. If she were not in the company of elven ears, her words would have been perceived as a line of croaky mumbles. Nothing intelligible. 

Galadriel's left hand moved from the base of Niphrediel's jaw, cupping her cheek like what Niphrediel would think she would have done to Celebrían in the days of her youth. Oh, how Niphrediel did not disserve this audience. People more deserving could only dream of being able to bring their eyes upon the body of the Elven Lady, and yet here Niphrediel was, the Lady's skin against her own. 

"What do you see?" Niphrediel pressed once more, her voice no longer so garbled. Though Galadriel's stare was lighter, Niphrediel could feel it continuing to probe the edges of her soul through her eyes. And yet despite the knowledge of what was being done, Niphrediel continued to hesitate before allowing herself to blink. 

Galadriel moved her stare to Niphrediel forehead, and seemed to study it with soft understanding that Nieninquë saw as quite confusing. Was there something written there? Had Legolas drawn some absurd picture there before he woke her this morn? If not so, then why did the area seem so significant as to be under the Elf Lady's study? 

"I see many things," Galadriel said, glancing momentarily back to Niphrediel's gaze as if to confirm that she was listening. There was a long silence, and then Galadriel let out a long sigh, turning her eyes in direction of the earth that the marble floor kept from view. "You see things too, do you not?" 

Though it may have been spoken as so, Niphrediel knew it was not a question. Suddenly Niphrediel shrunk more under the towering figure of the elven woman. It did not help that Galadriel was propped up on a thick step, and that Niphrediel was so close to her. She seemed all the more aware of how high she had to lift head to be able to see the Lady's face. 

Niphrediel could not even bring herself to lie. Though, she did know she would not do so, even if she had the power to try. Niphrediel nodded, her frown pasted upon her brow furring all the more. 

Galadriel nodded at Niphrediel's reaction, her pale lips shifting strangely into what Niphrediel thought to be a smile. Alas, even the Lady's smile was tainted by the bitter sadness of all the things that she had seen and all things she knew. The corners of the Lady's lips seemed almost tied down by the weight of all the grief moulded by the pain and regret of her fading race. But still, it was radiant. 

"You have had dreams all your life. Though, never taking notice, you would have never thought them as visions," Galadriel said, her face shifting expression once more, becoming as hard as smooth rock, and as unreadable as a blank page_. _**Yet all the while you have known. **

_Known what?_ Niphrediel opened her mouth to speak, but silenced herself when she realised that the Lady's last words had not been said aloud. Instead, the words seemed to have been spoken from the centre of Niphrediel's mind in the depths of her thoughts. 

"Known that what you thought, and what you dreamt, were in some ways something that should be feared," Galadriel replied, making a seemingly perfect transaction back to physical speech. As she spoke, Galadriel brought her finger to Niphrediel's temple as if to point, the tip of her finger placed gently upon the skin. "That the things inside here were things that should not be understood because"- 

Be quiet, _Niphrediel shunned, beginning to fear where the Lady's subject was going. Alas, the elleth did not even pause._

-"if they were, then their occurrence would be more oft, more powerful, and more precarious." Galadriel whispered, words flowing directly from mind and memory, her tone making emphases on each 'more' spoken, bit by bit. 

Niphrediel almost thought of taking a step back to cut off the Lady's physical reach with a little more distance, the Lady's touch no longer welcome. But, even before the thought properly registered, Galadriel removed her hands. 

"You fear the gift, as Gilraen did," Galadriel said, with slight mourning. 

Niphrediel raised a brow, "You speak of foresight? Gilraen did not fear that gift, even if she did not cherish it." 

"I do not speak of simple 'foresight'," Galadriel pressed, her lowered hands clasping at her front, statuesque at any position. 

Niphrediel sighed, shaking her head in surrender, "Then what do you speak of?" 

_"_Vision_."_

Niphrediel grew all the more confused, and she took two steps back, seeming to ponder wether or not to just turn back and leave. "Vision?" 

Galadriel nodded.**Vision. Your mother had it, as did her father before her. Gilraen feared it, as do you now. **"You… see things. Naturally, since your bloodline has mingled somewhat, your visions are unclear compared to the ones of your forefathers." 

Niphrediel frowned, letting out a cold breath as she thought of the painful daydream she had seen too shorter time ago. Her heart began to thump, and Niphrediel slowly began to drain. _There was meaning in my silly dream?_ Alas, there was only one way to know for certain. 

"I had a dream today," Niphrediel began, seeming comforted that after she said the words, Galadriel seemed keen to listen, "there were nine birds flying across a white sheeted sky, ah…." 

"Continue," Celeborn said, his presence there suddenly remembered on Niphrediel's part. Glancing for a moment at him, Niphrediel internally scorned herself. She had nearly forgotten about all the elves around her. 

"They all…. died," Niphrediel said, simply, joining her hands nervously behind her back. The way she had explained it made the true impact of the experience belittle. Niphrediel could not explain the recognition she felt with the creatures, the sorrow she felt when they began to bleed, the fear of where it was that they were going and the pain she was dealt with each time her heart pumped. 

Still, without knowing the great effects that Niphrediel had encountered, Galadriel seemed to take her words gravely. The Lady's eyes dropped to the floor once more, and she seemed almost a vacant vessel as she took a moment to think. 

"Milady, I never had a dream like that before," Niphrediel explained dreadfully, her hands tightening behind her as she heard her voice flow out before she had the chance to stop it. "Did I do something to…..trigger it, perhaps? Maybe I came into contact with something I should not have?" 

Alas, though her question was directed at Galadriel, it was the Lord Celeborn that answered Niphrediel back. His voice, now that Niphrediel was able to study it, was hard and firm, and yet the way the words rolled from his tongue, there seemed evidence that the firmness could be replaced by words more soft-spoken. 

"Its your mother's birthday," He said. "As your mother was given her first powerful vision on her father's day of birth, it is ritual. What year it is that the first vision comes to someone is a thing out of mere Men's control. It is called 'The Call', or at least that is what it is called from the rare information we have on the topic. As time goes on from this day forth, the call's will become more clear and will come more often and, if you learn properly, on command." 

"My mother's birthday?" Niphrediel repeated, absolutely lost. She shook her head, making her hair jiggle behind her as she did. "That is not correct, my lord. Gilraen's birthday is not this day, I can assure you that." 

Though Niphrediel searched, Celeborn's face gave no response. No shock, no confusion; no nothing. His face was completely unreadable. His lips closed, and he seemed as if he were waiting to be turned to stone in his unmoving form to become a proper statue and not just an elvish impersonation of one. 

"That, we will speak of another time," He promised, his silver hair swaying as he turned to regard his wife and lady with a warmer stare. 

"Yes, we will," Galadriel seconded, stare remaining caring and unmoving on Niphrediel's face. She hesitantly sighed, the use of slight movement beginning to make it obvious that this meeting was coming to a close. "Was there anything else you saw, Niphrediel?" 

Niphrediel shook her head. "No…. nothing else," Niphrediel said, frowning slightly when she could see Herentur stiffen, whilst waiting for her answer, in the corner of her eye. Niphrediel had noticed that as the talk of 'visions' began, that his stare was darker and stronger. She could feel his eyes burning into the side of her face, his gaze seeming almost sadistic in its power. 

Galadriel nodded, accepting the answer. "Very well," She said, looking Niphrediel over with an oblivious expression, "I shall let you go. You may wish to change, retire, or no. That is your choice. When you are ready, wither it be in an hour or a week's time, simply make your way back up those stairs and we shall speak once more." 

Niphrediel nodded, grateful that her business for the day had come to an end. "Very well," She said, readying herself to walk out and already taking a step back. 

"Niphrediel, do not rush out so hastily," Celeborn said, making Niphrediel double back. 

Brows raised, Niphrediel gave a soft shrug of her shoulders. "What is it, milord?" Glancing over the elf's tall body, Niphrediel only then noticed that he had kept his hands behind his back for most of the time he had been standing their alone. She knew not why she had noticed that in particular, but alas, she had. 

Celeborn, then, brought his hands to his front, and Niphrediel could see that in his right hand, he held an old longsword. It was straight, not arched like Niphrediel's one had been, and was without the elvish perfections that made it also a thing of beauty rather then just a weapon. Though it was old, Niphrediel could just see the tengwa and dwarvish inscription on the broad of the hilt, and upon its thick, black sheath, Niphrediel could tell that beneath it was a long blade of sharp, ageless dwarf-made steel. It was basic, without a mask that made its purpose of creation less clear. It was an instrument of attack and defence. Nothing less. 

Celeborn held it out to her, and Niphrediel took a moment before registering that he was giving it to her. It was her gift, and a mighty one at that. "Its name is _Alagos_, made from two fine weapon-smiths somewhere through the time of the first alliance. Elf-made is it's hilt and sheath, and dwarvish it it's blade. It is old, and perhaps not as grand as many other weapons we have, but I am sure it will do you just fine in the meantime," He said. 

Running up the stairs, Niphrediel allowed her hands to sink only a fraction when the weight of the weapon was placed onto her hands. The hilt was heavier then the blade, which would indeed be a profitable thing if the time came. Niphrediel could not help but swing it a couple times as she made her way back to the infirmary that she assumed would be her quarters until further notice. The thick hilt was perfect for the way Niphrediel's hand gripped it and, because of the fact that it was old, meant that the surface of the hilt had been a little warn and thus, the grip was much more secure. 

It was a most welcomed gift, and so, Niphrediel changed into more proper attire. Though it may have been an entertaining sight, it was not enjoyable for her to prance around with the sword wearing the green robe with the pyjamas underneath. 

She got properly dressed this time, enjoying the ritual of placing on each item of clothing. Alas, her white tunic seemed too hot for the occasion, so Niphrediel simply got a sleeveless chemise instead, of which collared the whistle at her chest quite nicely. 

Bodice and briefs, trousers, chemise, tunic and boots; Niphrediel took her time placing on each item. Brushing her hair and tying it back, Niphrediel absently noticed the Rivendell butterfly clip that she had not seen in quite a long while lying on her pillow. 

"Legolas, perhaps," She mumbled, thinking aloud as she threw the clip in the base of the plate at the back of her head in case she forgot about it and it became misplaced once again. 

After a long search, Niphrediel round a leather belt in the room's armoire and quickly attached it to the sword's sheath before strapping it at the hips of her leggings. Niphrediel glanced at herself in the mirror as she walked out, listening to the sound of leather chafing against leather as she took each step. 

Niphrediel reached out for the doorknob, but as she did, the door quickly opened. Niphrediel took a step back in surprise, as she watched the door part to bare Herentur standing in its way. 

Niphrediel frowned, a little confused to see him once more, and also slightly alarmed. "Herentur?" She said, as a moment of silence reeked through the space between the door and the wall. 

Herentur held something behind his back, and Niphrediel could only ponder what it was, until he parted his lips to speak. "You have no idea what you could have done to me!" He said through clenched teeth, before bringing his hidden hand up. 

Alas, whatever it was, Niphrediel did not get a chance to see it. With a blow so hard to the back of her head, all Niphrediel could see was shadow. And, as her senses began to minimize, the last words she heard before completely blacking out were: "Now what do I do?" 

Spy! 

Niphrediel had found a traitor. Or rather, a traitor had found Niphrediel. 

_***_

Where be your precious Legolas now, Niphrediel? Let alone your beloved brother. 

Niphrediel slowly felt herself waking up to the throbbing ache banging against her skull, and when she did, she immediately regretted it. The ache, unfortunately, was too strong for her to try and ignore in the hopes that perhaps she would be able to go back to sleep. 

Her eyelids began to prickle, the moister formed underneath them beginning to depart as her eyes prepared to open, regardless of wether or not she actually wanted them too. 

Beginning to breath through her nose, Niphrediel smelt mist, or perhaps it was just a strange type of tobacco… It was a poignant smell, almost stinging her nostrils despite that it was only a mild scent. 

Even before Niphrediel opened her eyes, she knew she was lying on wood, and probably not in a very comfortable position. Her head was propped on the top of what might have been a wooden railing with her arms also positioned on it, hanging limply over the edge. Her legs and lower body were simply laid on the wooden floor. 

As Niphrediel began to soak once more into her own skin, she could feel a thick gag of leather cramped tightly over and in her mouth. 

Testing it, Niphrediel lightly gnawed on it, and frowned as what seemed to be her own blood that the material had absorbed tainted her dry tongue. 

Spy… 

Niphrediel's eyes bolted open, her dark pupil focusing without hesitation in her body's state of shock and hurry. 

Her eyes adjusted easily enough, to Niphrediel's thanks. She was pushed on the front of a small boat, the river seen in all directions Niphrediel could manage to look at without moving her head confirmed that. The night sky was above her, a thick mist clouding the sides. 

Niphrediel looked at her hands hanging low over the edge, nearly touching the water the point of the boat smoothly cut through. Frowning at her wrists, Niphrediel's waking thoughts darkened when she saw the thick, heavy ropes bound around them with unmerciful tightness. 

The joint in the middle of each roped cuff swayed in the thick water of the river, and using her fingers, Niphrediel slowly collected it evenly between her two hands and gave it a small tug. 

She stopped testing the rope's strength, however, when her ears choose to unblock themselves and give her the missing sense of hearing. 

Niphrediel could hear someone behind her as they continued to paddle the boat along. Concentrating on settling her breathing, Niphrediel could not help but close her eyes as shivers tingled down and up her spin like ice. 

Spy! 

"Ai….what do we do now?" 

Niphrediel chocked on a whimper._Look what you have gotten yourself into! _Niphrediel's brow furred into a frown. How could there have been a spy in the Golden Wood? How could Galadriel have passed one by and not see? 

Herentur glanced down at his captive companion, "Aha, you have awoken," He smiled smugly. 

Niphrediel was smart, and remained unmoved. Not to pretend to not be awake, but just not to respond. What was she going to do or say? Her hands were bound together so using some sought of hand signals was out of the question. 

Niphrediel felt groggy, her eyelids drunkenly heavy despite her internal alertness. Her head felt like it weighed a tone, and she did not even bother trying to move it. Her limbs and muscles ached, gravity seeming to push down on them with its unwinding force. 

"Look," Herentur whispered, eyes turned to his left. 

Niphrediel, not seeing exactly which direction Herentur was indicating, had to take a moment to search before seeing what Herentur was speaking about. 

Her hopes momentarily soared. Here was her chance! The Fellowship's camp was small and silent, their campfire now without even the glowing embers to mark its place. 

Conjuring up all the strength she could muster, Niphrediel brought her leg up to stand. From there she could possibly jump off the boat and swim to the side. Not without splashing about loudly in the hopes of waking the company up to assist her, of course. 

But, alas, her plans were brought to an end when Herentur grabbed onto the back of her tunic and pulled her back down onto the boat's floor. As if like lightning, a dagger appeared in his spare hand and he held its point on the flesh of Niphrediel's throat. 

"They will not hear you," He promised, his voice reeking with venom as it taunted her with these words that Niphrediel did not want to hear. 

"They will not hear you, and they do not see you," Herentur added, sending the camp a poisonous glare as the boat drifted passed it. "The mist, you see," He whispered, looking back to the mortal. 

The elf tilted his head to the side, his stare strengthening as he boar into the girl's face with unreadable amusement. Shaking his head, he brought the back of his hand up to wipe away a cold tear that fell from Niphrediel's right eye, despite her strongest efforts. 

Herentur did not notice the mortal stiffen at his cold touch, too busy looking down at the sheer bead of salty water that confirmed for him who was the weaker of the two. 

Wiping the teardrop on the shoulder of Niphrediel's tunic, Herentur sighed, looking into the distance as he continued to allow the boat to drift along without his help. 

"You have to understand," He began, "what you could have done." Herentur shook his head, oblivious to his own thoughts. 

"You have no comprehension what it was like for me to build a shield so thick that the Lady's stare would not see through it," Herentur stressed, exhaling as he spoke. "Every day my mind was without piece, never did relaxation faze me." 

"That is because you are a spy!" Niphrediel exclaimed, or at least it was what she tried to. It came out as a gargle, muffled by the thick bound of leather shoved into her mouth. 

Herentur looked at Niphrediel's gag for a moment at Niphrediel's attempt at speech, and seemed to contemplate taking it off. Of course, alas not being a fool, he dismissed the thought practically immediately. 

"And then, here came you," Herentur said, his voice losing its gentleness, "The child who dreams of the future, eh?" 

Niphrediel's teeth tightened on the gag, and her hands clasped the rope held in them with more power as they fought back the urge to hit the elf's jaw, held as one. 

Alas, Herentur still held the blade at her throat, and almost as if in taunted play, gently drew the tip of it against her skin in multiple patterns as he spoke. Thankfully, he did not press down hard enough to break Niphrediel's skin. 

"Everything I worked so very hard to make for myself would all be for nothing because of the makings of your imagination," Herentur spat, his eyes brushing her forehead with unpredictable loathing. "I cannot have you dreaming of my plans, now can I?" 

Another question Niphrediel could not answer. 

Herentur grinned, his beauty slapping Niphrediel as she struggled to keep face. "Now, you must be thinking 'so, where are we going?', am I right?" He asked; his brows raised in attentive regard, "Now that you have brought me to do this, Lothlorien is no longer a good choice for me to stay. Nor any other elvish dwelling, at that." 

At his hesitation to speak, Niphrediel simply nodded, to confirm that she was listening. And indeed, she did listen. It was hard not to. 

"So, I am taking you, and most importantly me, to another who can possibly help," Herentur said, retracting his dagger and standing back up. Niphrediel could not help but notice _Alagos; _it's hilt showing behind the elf's shoulder, on his back. 

"Now, you must be thinking…. 'What is going to happen to me?', am I right?" Herentur smiled, enjoying his little game that Niphrediel desperately hoped he would bring to an end soon. "Well at first, I must admit, I thought that perhaps a quick 'finish' would be best, until I started to think." 

Picking up his large, dripping paddle behind him, Herentur paused before continuing, "Having something like you may not be a burden," Herentur said, brightly, "We would know what the enemy would plan, what they would not expect, excreta excreta." 

_Oh in the name of Eru, please no, _Niphrediel absently prayed. 

_"_You would be a useful tool!" Herentur beamed, beginning to paddle once more. "Though I hate to seek the help of a man, the worm-tongued fool will give us supplies for our travels." 

Niphrediel suspected the last bit was mere spoken thoughts, but, even still, she moulded them into her memory. 

"He knows of our trail and that we are coming to him," Herentur said, this time not only to himself. Oh how Niphrediel wanted to swipe the happy smile off his face. 

_"The Caller shall be with me_, I wrote in my letter," Herentur noted, "_A young mortal youth_,I said, _with hair black in colour and eyes of blue, a tiny scar on her jaw. _There are not many who match that description where he is," Herentur smiled, "so you will not go unnoticed." 

Niphrediel's hopes were brought to a halt once again, and she turned around on the damp floor. Looking at the elf was too painful. 

She only looked back to him when he gently through her a small bottled flask. 

"Drink," He said, "I shall not enjoy you collapsing in thirst before the sun comes up again." 

Niphrediel raised a brow, biting on her gag. 

"Oh! Silly me." Herentur laughed joyously, shaking his head as he moved one hand off the paddle to pull the gag down onto Niphrediel's chin. "If you scream, I shall not be merciful," He warned absently, before moving back to paddle again. 

Niphrediel looked suspiciously at the flask before beginning to scull all the tainted liquid. Perhaps it was poison… But, alas, Niphrediel would at least die happy, freed from thirst's bite. 

Drinking all that could have been drunken, Niphrediel gave the flask back to Herentur before lying back down in a more comfortable position, if that was possible. 

Her breath marked the air as Niphrediel's heavy eyelids began to slowly pull downwards. 

"Sleep," Herentur ordered gently, and despite Niphrediel's efforts to go against his order, five seconds later, she was sleeping soundly. 

Sleeping tonic…Damn it, Niphrediel! 

Niphrediel slept for an eternity. But, against her inner hopes, the eternity was not long enough. 

Niphrediel opened her eyes that she had almost forgotten she had. 

Once more, the night was her dawn. Though, Niphrediel's instinct told her that their had been indeed many a dawn since she had been put to sleep by the spy's treacherous tonic. 

Niphrediel was propped against a hard fully packed backpack, her legs laid in front of her body with dirt scattered against her boots. A campfire not too far from her continued to glow in the fiery twilight but Niphrediel could tell it had neglected for an hour at least. Moving her quick stare off it, Niphrediel could immediately tell that they were far from where they had once been. 

The camp was situated between two boulders in the centre of what Niphrediel thought to be a humongous, empty field. Field after field was all Niphrediel could see: leagues and leagues of them, practically endless. 

Quickly looking down at herself, Niphrediel could tell her skin was by far darker then what she could have ever thought it could ever become. Her tone was bronzed, she could tell, even under the dim light of the nearby fire. 

Through all the travel under the harsh sun, it was somewhat a good thing Niphrediel had been asleep through it all. The only way the tan could have made its place would have been through a painful amount of sunburns. 

Niphrediel moved off the topic of her own health. Where was Herentur? Of course, if that actually was his name. Niphrediel's jaw tightened as she pushed herself up into a crouch. 

Herentur seemed not to be there, at least to Niphrediel's impressions. Quickly, Niphrediel did not allow herself to get too excited. He would be back. That was no question. So, instead, she would have to use this time to her advantage. 

_Very good, muinthel_. Now, always remember: _Two hands are better then one, and one hand is better then none. _Niphrediel frowned, letting herself only reminisce for a mere moment before beginning to search through the equipment thrown about the camp for something sharp to free her hands. 

Kicking bags over forcibly with her legs, Niphrediel held back from letting out a joyous laugh when she found a sharp plank of wood Herentur must have used to tie his flask onto. 

Rubbing the rope against the sharp corner, the thick bond of plated horsehair could only hold for a moment or so before snapping. 

Niphrediel was free. 

Her heart was beating fast, her gut unsettling as Niphrediel felt the need to run bite her on the hide. Which way? It mattered not. 

Sparing only a last moment to snatch the filled flask from the top of the stick and throw its strap over her shoulder and neck, Niphrediel began to run. 

Seeing something glimmering along her path, Niphrediel lowered her upper body to scoop up Herentur's dagger with her left hand. 

It was only a moment or so before Niphrediel knew she was being chased. She could not hear Herentur's footsteps, but she could hear his harsh breathing. 

Not now! 

Niphrediel forced her legs to quicken_. Come now! _She screamed, her mind shrinking_, You are quicker then this! Run! Run, faster!_

Niphrediel tried, at least, and indeed her speed was thus she could probably outrun any man, but, alas, the elf only had to press a little more before Niphrediel knew she would not escape. 

Knowing this, Niphrediel ridded the dagger of its small leather sheath and held it tightly. She shrugged off her thoughts of fear and weakness, giving her all to just depend on instinct, that way her morale and fear of death either for her sake, or Herentur's, would not be remembered. 

Herentur grabbed her hair and gave it a hard yank to the ground as he fell back, in order to drag Niphrediel down with him. 

Niphrediel did not scream, falling with a thud onto the hard, grass-covered hearth, the dagger falling from her hands as she rolled to a stop. She knew not what Herentur was doing, but with her hair then free, she rolled onto her feet and turned to him. 

Herentur, alas, had brought his own death, wether or not he knew it. Niphrediel nodded. Yes, Niphrediel. Keep thinking that way! 

He already stood in front of her, with Niphrediel's Alagos drawn and held ready in his cold hands. 

_Weapons? Weapons are not what make a warrior great.A true warrior needs not the power of a sword or spear to spare a victory. _Niphrediel shook her head, clearing her mind of Aragorn's voice. Yes, a true warrior does not need a sword to beat another, but when his opposition is swinging one around, he does not have much choice. 

Move your feet…. lean in with your shoulder when you punch… straighten your leg when you kick… 

Kick…Niphrediel glanced down at the hard top of her boot, then quickly to the hilt of Alagos. Taking into consideration of how the elf gripped the blade, she could only hope. 

"_Namarië, eglan aphadon o gwaith lin_," He hissed, _"Ú minuial luithia sen dû."_ With her smirk taunting her with its proud display, Herentur brought his arm back, bringing it down with enough power to stab Niphrediel right through. 

Niphrediel did not realise what she was doing until it had already been done. In blinding panic she brought her leg up to the blades blunt side, of which was pointing to the ground of course. Perhaps there was more Aragorn in her then she realised. The sword was kicked out of Herentur's hands, twirling in gravity's pull as it sailed through the air into Niphrediel's waiting hands. Naturally, of course, Niphrediel had to have jumped to catch it, but that did not change the fact the elf was in range. 

The hilt had barely touched her flesh when Niphrediel brought the tip straight through the elf's stomach. Hearing the sickening crunch of braking muscle, Niphrediel finally realised exactly what she had done. Pulling the sword out quickly out of Herentur's body, she could have felt sick from hearing the poignant tearing once again. And yet, she did not. 

Niphrediel took a drowsy step back, drunk on adrenaline. Adrenaline to kill. She felt no fear, only the unbearable desire to kill without remorse and second thought. Her head felt like air, heart racing at inhumane speeds as she gasped for quick breaths when suddenly her body became hungry for more. 

Herentur stood still, in a daze. His eyes were wide, unbelieving. This could _not _have happened. There was no way the girl could have done this. No way at all! His plans always worked. _Always. _This one insignificant little twit could not have succeeded into bringing an end to his strong existence. _He _had the power to deceive the elves of the Golden Wood. _He _had won the Lady's shifting trust. _He _had the ability to kidnap the Caller right underneath Haldir's nose. There was no way in all forms of reason, that Niphrediel could have beaten him. 

In his delusional denial, the pain was a secondary care. Herentur took a step forward, his face churning like rotten milk as rage overthrew all else. Tears of anguish shone brightly under the moonlight as he brought his hands out to hit Niphrediel, and his mouth opened wide as he began to cry out his last cry of war. 

Niphrediel was oblivious, clenching her teeth as she dropped onto her knees, dodging the dieing elf's numerous strikes. Instinct overruled sense as Niphrediel put a fist on the ground and gave a quick sidekick, hitting the back of the elf's knees and tripping him up onto his back. Still on her knees, Niphrediel brought herself down upon Herentur's body, _Alagos_ held in front of her heart with both hands; it's point facing out. Hitting flesh and pushing down with all her weight and strength, Niphrediel let out a scream in defiance and animal satisfaction as she felt the body underneath her go limp. 

Still intoxicated with this sudden adrenaline of self-assurance and physical power, Niphrediel gave herself no time to calm down. Playing the part of a warrior or deadly assassin she imagined herself to be in her own mind, Niphrediel rolled off Herentur and frisked his back strap that had Alagos's sheath belted to it and put it on her own back, the straps holding it up like the straps of a bag. Shoving Alagos in the sheath, now on her back, Niphrediel grabbed her necessities and ran into the darkness, making her footsteps light in her new fantasy of living amongst the wilderness like a Ranger, able to overcome anything and anyone. 

Niphrediel was free, though she did _not_ know where on earth she was supposed to go. There were no people for her to ask directions from, and there were no objects around to be a marker Niphrediel could use to make sure she was not just walking around in circles. 

Endless fields, endless green and almost yellow grass. Niphrediel frowned, feeling the sun come up behind her. _You need a horse here, _she thought, among other things, _What are you talking about? You need a horse everywhere!_

Niphrediel travelled by foot for two days, or so she thought, before collapsing in total fatigue. Wether it was two days or no, it seemed like she had been running forever without rest. Two days was what it felt like, but Niphrediel knew that the affects from her drugged-induced sleep would have made time all the more longer to pass. For all she knew, she could have only been travelling for two hours. Nevertheless though, the desire for sleep, wherever it had to be made, was just as strong. 

*** 

_"You just….**found** her?"_

_"Aye, that we did."_

_"There were no others with her?"_

_"Not that we know of, no."_

_"Why is she not in the infirmary? This is no hospital bed."_

Niphrediel felt the dapping of a watered flannel upon her brow, making her frown. From underneath her eyelids she could feel her eyes stinging, rousing from her fulfilling rest. Perhaps her movements, though only slight, were a mistake. 

_"Behold, Théodred! The girl awakens." _

At the predicament rightfully made, Niphrediel's eyes fluttered open, stare in full alert. Her upper body quickly moved to straight up, but the young man on the left of the bed she laid in forced her back down onto the white sheets and simple pillows with his hand over her mouth. 

Théodred, son of Théoden, could not help but smile at the girl's vigilance, and did his best to sooth her. Sincerity was in his blood, and thus he did not find it such a daunting task, which was surprising. "Fear not," he whispered, brows high in earnest, "You are safe." 

They were simple words, but its affect was strong. Niphrediel's body was no longer tense and stiff, and eyes no longer wide in fear and alarm. Though she was still suspicious, Théodred felt the moment well enough for him to remove his hand, and so he did. On his knees beside the bed, he did not have to stand just yet. 

Niphrediel looked down at where she lay, then around the room she was situated in. She was far from Lothlorien now, or from any other elvish dwelling. She was now in the realm of men, she was certain. Gondor, perhaps? Niphrediel's eyes narrowed at the different ornaments that decorated the bedroom. There were foreign maps hung on a wall, and a large banner on another. This was no infirmary. This was someone's personal bedroom, and from the obvious battle-like things inspired by war and weapons, it seemed indeed not the chamber of a female. 

Niphrediel's stare rested upon the shelf on the northern wall, brushing briefly over the tiny horse figurines mounted on them. They were a young boy's toys, and a young man's treasures. She moved her head to the others that were in the room with her. Not so much the dark-haired man perched beside the bed, but the other man, of whom she had not yet passed judgement on. 

Unlike the raven-haired young man, the other's head was the base of golden tendrils, of which fell down about his shoulders. He was a soldier of sorts, Niphrediel was absolutely certain. His physique was one of hard labour and many battles. His face was handsome enough, the beginnings of a healthy beard about his chin and upper lip. 

Niphrediel looked back to the dark-haired man, of whom she could not imagine being much older then herself. He, too, looked fit for battle in his homeland's name. Whatever his homeland was, of course. His hair was darker then hers, and his face was softly featured in youth's generous beauty he had been given. Niphrediel imagined he had a beautiful mother. 

"Where," Niphrediel paused to cough, clearing her throat of the lump lodged there. "Where am I?" 

Théodred looked up to his cousin beside him, if only for a moment before turning back to the girl. The golden-haired, looking back at his younger relative, grew dark at the realisation that he had never seen this one of his kin look at one of the fairer sex with such hidden tenderness. It disturbed him, to say the least. Théodred was cold, though only from his silence, and nonchalance with the female race. He still respected the complex species, but he had no fascination with it. Théodred's heart was pure but his overconfident characteristics, though addictive to be around, made him seem somewhat arrogant at times. His attention was warm, above it all, as well as most of his intentions. 

"You are in Edoras, Rohan." Said the golden-haired, before Théodred had the chance to speak the words himself, "And my name is Éomer, sister-son of King Théoden. Can you tell us your own name, girl?" He asked, his tone relishing in some sympathy for her. Wether it be forced or no. 

Niphrediel was calmed at the man's words, but her suspicion could not be helped. Thinking quickly, she gave an answer that perhaps she should have thought out first. Searching memory and mind quickly, she said the first thing that came to mind when she thought of her situation. "Caeleb," She said. She did not know these people, or their true intentions. She could not trust them with her name just yet. 

"Caeleb," Éomer repeated, with a civil nod in approval. "When we found you, lass, you were armed with sword and sheath. It is only presumed that you are some sort of Shieldmaiden?" 

Shieldmaiden? Niphrediel frowned, shaking her head, "Perhaps if I knew what a Shieldmaiden was, I would be able to give you an appropriate answer, my lord." 

"Éomer, please," Éomer smiled very briefly, before continuing on, "Shieldmaiden….a woman who takes up arms in combat, setting aside the life of womanhood to move through the boundaries of the world of men." 

Niphrediel slowly nodded. Shieldmaiden…. Interesting title. "Yes," She said, carefully and slowly, watching Éomer's expression very closely to spot any hint that perhaps she had not answered correctly. Thankfully, his face brightened ever so slightly, and so Niphrediel, also known now as a girl named Caeleb, knew she had given the right answer. 

"We found you along our borders," Said Théodred, clear and blank, "Do you…remember what you were doing there? Where are you from?" 

A silence fell upon the three at that question, and Niphrediel's hair hid the affects of them as her ears slowly reddened. _What can I say? _Niphrediel thought quickly, always finding some glitch in an idea someway or another. Deciding on something smart, she chose to take on Aragorn's Ranger-self's history. 

"… Bree," Niphrediel said, trying to ignore the expressions of surprise on both the young men when she actually answered. Her hesitation had been so long that they doubted she would do so. At least using 'Strider' as her source of information, Niphrediel's lies would have no problems in terms of her remembering certain things. 

"Bree?" Théodred's eyes widened, "That is indeed far from where you are today." 

Éomer nodded with Théodred's words, his stare growing dark with concern as her brow wrinkled into a frown. "How did you come to be here, lass? As Théodred says, you are far from home." 

Niphrediel decided on using no lies with this question. "I was brought here against my will," She began, her tone more strong now that she was speaking truth, of which was more comfortable for her. "I escaped the company of the man that took me from my home and ran in any direction hoping to perhaps find a place more populated then your land's endless leagues." Niphrediel thought it best to not speak of Herentur as an elf. 

"Well then, it is indeed a great relief that Théodred and his scouts found you," Éomer said, letting out a breath while rubbing the back of his neck with a hand. He was indeed generally relieved. 

"Indeed," Mumbled Théodred, unconsciously, under his breath. 

Niphrediel slowly nodded, looking down at herself. The garment she wore were not from the waist down something she would want to prance about in front of two men, so she did not move out from the blankets. 

Noticing her movements, Théodred quickly moved to speak. "Ah, do not worry," He said, "Your clothing has just been taken out to be washed." 

Niphrediel slowly nodded, "Yes…that is excellent, but what am I supposed to wear in the mean time?" Her dry humour seemed to be amusing to the Rohirric prince. He laughed, the sound thick and soothing, and most of all: addictive. Niphrediel felt herself lightly grin at his response. 

Éomer have a brief 'hmm', but did not seem to dwell too long on any complications. "You are very close of frame to my own sister," He said, with a shrug, "You could perhaps wear one of her own dresses until your own can be provided." 

"Terrific idea, cousin," smiled Théodred, moving over and patting his older relative's shoulder. 

"I shall be off to get one," Éomer smiled to his cousin, but spoke to both he and Niphrediel. "Caeleb, you can just wait in here. Théodred"— 

"I will just run along," Théodred grinned, finishing Éomer's sentence with a hint of sarcasm. Bowing his head to Niphrediel, Théodred slowly began to walk backwards towards the doors on a sidewall. "Farewell, Caeleb," He said casually, before turning and walking through the doors, his presence quickly just a memory. 

"I shall send someone with a suitable dress," Éomer said slowly, following his cousin out and closing the doors behind him. Now, Niphrediel was truly alone. 

Sitting up on the bed, Niphrediel took her time to absorb all that had happened to her. She was robbed from the Lady Galadriel's net, and then had murdered her kidnapper. Collapsing in her exhaustion after travelling blindly on foot, she had been brought to Rohan…What on earth? Did she have nine lives like a cat?! Boy oh boy was her luck immense. 

"Oh Valar," Niphrediel let out, bringing her hands to her forehead as she felt her stomach flip. What was she to do? Niphrediel quickly stumbled out of the folds of the heavy blankets. After tripping over her own feet and falling down onto her behind on the floor, Niphrediel made a mental note to take it more easy. Her strength had not fully returned……obviously. 

Slowly standing back up, Niphrediel took a moment before heading anywhere when she felt her legs sway on the spot. Eventually though, she slowly moved through the room, inspecting everything with her eyes, but not hands. 

"Rohan….." Niphrediel slowly let the word roll off her tongue before sighing. How was she supposed to go back? 

Niphrediel cursed herself when she got a shock when she heard the sound of the door knocking. Bringing her hand to her chest for a moment while letting out a deep breath, she moved over to the doors and opened one of them, poking her head out the gap to inspect the person on the other side. 

The woman on the other side of the door slowly nodded, a fair-haired brow rising. "Hello?" She said slowly, gripping the folded dress under her arm. 

Niphrediel's train of thought temporarily unfocused. This maiden was lovely. One of the fairest of the fair, in Niphrediel's humble opinion, but fair in a cold, untouched way. Soft, pale hair cascaded in waves about her shoulders and the dress she wore was blue with a belt of silver and gold. Her face was pale, with features strong, yet gentle in its shape. Her beauty was one of strength and pallor, of which was the most eye-catching to someone such as Niphrediel. 

Mortal nobility in its very word, the woman waited in comfortable silence as Niphrediel nodded to her a shy greeting. "My name is Éowyn," She said. "I believe you have met my brother already. Éomer is his name." 

Niphrediel nodded, "Aye, that I have. My name is N—Caeleb." 

Éowyn smiled, "Caeleb? A fair name. It suites you well." She was not saying these words to flatter Niphrediel, but nonetheless Nieninquë was happy her fake name was unbelievable for her character. 

"Éomer said you were a Shieldmaiden of sorts?" Éowyn said slowly, sharp eyes of blue connecting with Niphrediel's own. "Rohan has naught many Shieldmaidens at all, so it is an honour to meet another. From another land, also, to say the least." 

Niphrediel could not help but smile. "Thankyou," She said, turning around to regard the room behind her. "Your home's hospitality is too kind." 

Éowyn slowly nudged for Niphrediel to open the door. Rather preferring the company of a woman, Niphrediel had no problem at all with being willing to comply. Opening the door, and leaving it for Éowyn to close behind her when she entered, Niphrediel walked over to a stranger's bed and sat down upon it. 

"This is Théodred's room," Éowyn said, "I am nothing short of surprised that he would allow another to use it, much less his own bed." 

Remembering quickly who Théodred was, Niphrediel nodded. "He is not always so generous, then?" 

Éowyn shook her head, "It is not that he is not generous, but rather he would give someone passage to the house of healing before considering the wounded sleep in his own bed." 

Niphrediel nodded once more, Éowyn's point taken into short regard. 

Éowyn stopped in the middle of unfolding the carried dress on a small table, looking at Niphrediel with a kind, but chilling stare. "I like you," She said. "I do not know you well, but your presence is soothing." 

Niphrediel beamed, unable to keep the smile kept inside. "Thankyou," She said, "The same for you, save that your presence is more obvious then I imagine mine to be." 

Éowyn slowly shrugged, a shroud of cold breeze appearing like a group of clouds across a blue sky. "Perhaps," She said. "I do not relish myself in many friends, but those very few I have are dear. I can very well envision your name one day counted among that short list. Why? I cannot say for certain, but you seem genuine enough to me." 

Before Niphrediel could reply, Éowyn turned and gestured to the dress. "It is not a gorgeous thing, but it will do for now," She said, managing a small smile as she slowly moved back towards the door. Turning back, hand on the doorknob, Éowyn's brows slowly lifted. "When you are done, just move around til you find the armoury. Your sword is kept there, and so I expect you will most likely want it back," and then, with her final words spoken, Éowyn left the room with Niphrediel quietly standing inside it. 

Taking the Shieldmaiden's words to heart, Niphrediel moved over to the dress and held it up before her to take a quick inspection. It was made of simple materials, of that Niphrediel was certain. It seemed to have two layers; a white underdress made of cloth and a brown overdress made of a material Niphrediel thought to be quite close to thick wool. 

Éowyn was right, it was not a gorgeous thing, but Niphrediel was impartial. Niphrediel doubted that she would let a stranger wear one of her more glamorous dresses if it was asked of her, so she really did not mind. Éowyn was generous enough to clothe her, and Niphrediel was thankful. 

Niphrediel found her boots that had been thrown into a corner and quickly put them on, relishing in the feel of something familiar worn on her body. 

After quickly brushing her hair self-consciously with her fingers, Niphrediel quickly made her way out of the room into a long, empty hall. Niphrediel's brows rose as she took a moment or two to regard the hall with a quick examination before moving on. 

The hall was larger then she thought, but Niphrediel was not in too much of a rush. She was only mildly aware that her hand grasped the width of her whistle as she made her way through into a large hall. Surprised at the stature of this 'complex' she stood in, Niphrediel looked up to the wooden panels on the ceiling before she heard the familiar sound of steel against steel. 

Turning her head, her eyes rested upon the form of Éomer's cousin. Niphrediel thought for a short moment…. If Éowyn and Éomer were brother and sister, that also meant that Théodred was Éowyn's cousin as well. _Wow, Niphrediel. You used your brain!_

Théodred held Alagos in his hands, looking down at its blade that he had pulled out from its sheath about to its halfway point. He was staring at the elvish dialect written right down the centre of the sword to its deadly point, of that Niphrediel was quite positive. By his transfixed expression, Niphrediel guessed that Elvish was not spoken in Rohan. She could have been wrong, but she doubted it. 

"Its beautiful." 

Niphrediel nearly jolted when the sound of the young man's voice echoed through the hall to meet her ears. She cursed herself under her breath, her ears lightly turning pink under the layers of tendrils that covered them and fell to spill over her shoulders. 

Though Théodred's words were not directed anywhere in particular, Niphrediel knew they were for her. 

"Thankyou." 

Théodred glanced at her lightly, letting the sword slip back into the embrace of its black sheath. "It is elven made," He said, in a mixture of curiosity, suspicion and something else Niphrediel could not foretell. 

"Yes," Niphrediel began, carefully. "I spent many a-year under the roof of the Elvenhome of Imladris," She said, once more choosing to speak truth. "The sword was given to me by….ah…" Niphrediel suddenly stopped, hurryingly searching her mind for a reasonably end to her sentence. Her ability to lie was atrocious. 

"Ah?" Théodred grinned, his dark brows rising, "Interesting name, indeed." 

Niphrediel smiled, but carried on quickly. "The sword was given to me by my father," she blurted out, without thinking. Afterwards she scorned herself, but Théodred took her answer with a calm nod. Niphrediel scorned herself again. Why did she have to try so hard? Grrr! 

"A fair weapon," Théodred commented, not meaning to flatter. "A man's weapon also, some may say." 

The grin on Théodred's face was probably all that prevented Niphrediel's eyes from shifting into a glare, for it showed that his words had not been for her to take literally. She lowered her head slightly, letting out a quiet chuckle. With a shrug of her shoulders, she said nothing. 

"Are you sure you know how to handle it?" Théodred continued on, his grin never seising to wane. Like an endless night or day, it was constant and warm. 

Niphrediel slowly opened her mouth to reply, the slightest hint of a smile appearing on the outer edges of her mouth. "I"— 

"Théodred, do tell. Who—oh who!—is this mysterious woman before us?" 

_And from the ashes slithered a snake; _were the words that came to Niphrediel's mind when she turned to look at the person of who had last spoken. It was hard for her to keep from grimacing. The man, if he were indeed just that, stood with hunched shoulders and sickening pasty skin. His eyes were round and beady, the colour of them pale and lifeless. His hair, oily and black, was swept back, and on his stooped body was worn robes of the same colour. 

Indeed, his image could have driven the lightest of heart to vomit at its vile display, and Niphrediel slowly noticed that from his entry, a shadow descended upon the hall with him. Niphrediel could almost smell the tension between the vile man, and Théodred. 

"Caeleb," Answered Théodred, after much hesitation; in his voice an obvious hint of automatic protectiveness that Niphrediel felt comforting indeed. She did _not _want to seem alone in front of this…. man? "Of Bree." 

The sickly grey eyes of the stranger narrowed onto Niphrediel's face and she felt its scorching intensity positively repulsive. It took all her willpower to not take a step back, to perhaps build just a little more distance between the man and herself. 

"Caeleb," Théodred continued, gesturing to her with a hand, "This is Gríma, a counsellor to my father." 

"Caeleb," Gríma repeated under his breath, the way the name rolling of his tongue making Niphrediel bite her lip to keep from wavering on her feet. 

Niphrediel nodded quickly, by means that perhaps the sooner the introduction was over, the sooner Gríma would leave. Scorning herself, Niphrediel felt horrible for her thoughts. She did not know this man…perhaps his beauty was not in the skin, but in the heart underneath it. Though, judging by the way Théodred, of whom Niphrediel was certain was quite a good-hearted man, looked at him, Niphrediel doubted Gríma's authenticity. 

The venom in Théodred's stare did not soften, nor would it ever. His jaw slightly tightened as he waited patiently for the humanoid beast to make his observation and leave, but his patience began to wane very quickly when he found the way Gríma was peering into the girl's face quite alarming. 

If Théodred were not so shyly spoken, he would think himself almost jealous… 

Opening his mouth to speak, Théodred was cut off by Gríma's own voice. 

"That's a lovely…scar you have there," Gríma said softly, moving his eyes from Niphrediel's jaw to Niphrediel's eyes. Oh, how he could practically smell his own intrigue, let alone his ever-building curiosity that he could not help but show in the tone of his droning voice. 

Niphrediel's hand automatically flew to her jaw, rubbing the rougher skin there for a moment as she considered a reply. "Thank you…I think," She said, looking to Théodred as if asking for help. 

"You say you come from Bree?" Gríma said, without any hesitation to prolong his light pry. He had to wallow down the images of strapping the girl down to a table and forcing out every single little secret the youth had ever kept with the use of his own enjoyable torture techniques. 

Niphrediel nodded, "Aye." 

Gríma smirked. _A young mortal youth, with hair black in colour and eyes of blue, a tiny scar on her jaw, _Gríma almost let out a cackle._ Oh, Saerion…you clever, clever elf. _

"Do you not have business to attend to, Gríma?" Théodred barked, a brow high. Niphrediel could see that the Rohirrim prince seemed to grip her sword a little _too_ tightly. 

Gríma grinned at Théodred's annoyance, with his own amusement. His expression was the depiction of content as he slowly nodded. "Yes….yes, I do," He said, before turning back to look at Niphrediel once more, his stare much less polite as it lingered in certain areas, without care or consideration to make it even a little less obvious. 

"We will talk again, _Caeleb,_" Said Gríma, before moving away to leave. But, just before walking through the opened doors, he turned back and smiled. "Sweet dreams." 

And then, he was gone. 

Niphrediel's eyes could not widen more. Now, she knew! _Herentur—_

"He is such a vile creature," Théodred mumbled, his words cutting off Niphrediel's train of thought. Suddenly, his eyes grew misty and lowered to the floor. "All can see that…except my father." 

Théodred abruptly turned, so that Niphrediel could only see his back. 

"Where is your own father, Caeleb? I would hate to imagine the worry he must have to find his prized daughter missing," Théodred said, a sadness in his voice that conveyed for Niphrediel that his heart was not at peace, but in pain. 

"My father is dead," Niphrediel said, her tone remaining casual as to not ask for anyone's pity. Once again, she did not lie. She did not _want _to lie. It did not make it easier that she was beginning to like Théodred. He seemed of terrific character from what she had seen so far. 

"He died a _long _time ago," Niphrediel smiled, ere Théodred turned around to say an apology. 

Théodred nodded, an apologetic smile curving his lips. "And your mother?" 

This was not such a casual topic, but nonetheless Niphrediel was fine. "She followed him some years ago." 

Théodred frowned, his dark in concern and absolute worry. Niphrediel was totally taken back at his ability to take other people's problems upon himself. 

"No brothers? Sisters? Cousins? Uncles? Aunts? Grandparents, perhaps?" Théodred pressed. 

Niphrediel hesitated before shaking her head. "Nay." Her answer made Théodred seem stung, and Niphrediel could only watch. It could have almost been if he was the one she was speaking of, rather then herself. But, then again, Niphrediel _did _have a brother so she was not totally alone, but Théodred did not know that. 

Théodred frowned, "No family at all?"— 

"That just means we shall have to try and substitute, Théodred." 

Niphrediel turned with a smile to see Éowyn standing at the door. 

Théodred smiled at the presence of his cousin, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Oh, Éowyn!" He exclaimed, in mock-seriousness. "Behold Caeleb, my voice of reason has arrived!" 

Niphrediel just stared. The love of this small family was overcoming. The presence of having two or the entire three together made each one of them better people. 

Éowyn seemed accustomed to Théodred's humour, for she just brushed him off with a wave of her hand. "Well some one must give you reason, Théodred. You have none without them." Her words were spoken without any hint of sarcasm or irony, but Théodred knew his cousin well enough to understand which words she spoke were false or true, forced or no, serious or sarcastic. 

Théodred laughed, and Niphrediel just smiled. 

"Where is Éomer?" Théodred asked, his laughter now only memory. 

Éowyn raised a brow. "Where he always is," She said, and though Niphrediel had no idea to where she was referring to, both Éowyn and Théodred did. 

"Aye, silly me," Théodred smiled, shaking his head. "I should have known that." 

Éowyn's brow remained arced, as she looked from Théodred, to Alagos, and then to Niphrediel. "Does something distract you from your memory?" She asked, her stare upon her cousin a sly, unreadable one ere it left Niphrediel's face. 

Théodred lowered his head to hide his small smile, catching Éowyn's hidden meaning Niphrediel did not rightfully hear. "The same thing that robs me of my eyes, cousin," He said, his hand rubbing the back of his neck in slight nervousness. 

Niphrediel raised a brow, but remained quiet. She was _almost _positive that they had been talking about her, but she could not have been certain. _The same thing that robs me of my eyes? _Niphrediel repeated the words again and again in her head, and yet there seemed to not make sense that Théodred had been referring to her. 

Niphrediel was not fair enough to be referred to so… favourably. For one, she was usually surrounded by elves so, of course, she was not becoming in the eyes of an Immortal. Two, she was too young for romance in any case… Three, the way she looked…well… 

Men seemed to like women full, curvaceous, with tiny waists like an hourglass. Niphrediel's body, alas, was pretty straight. Yes, like most other young women, she had a curve at the waist and hip, but she was probably too lean for the shape to be truly noticed. She was tall, yes, so like any other tall person, she was bound to have long limps, but still that was sometimes not satisfactory for young men who liked to feel like the protectors of their woman friends. The last, and probably most embarrassing, aspect of Niphrediel's body was her bust. Due to her lean, rather then full, physique, her breasts were just small of ideal. _Ideal_ in Niphrediel's eyes anyway. 

Unknowing of her exact age, Niphrediel was still complex about the fact when she would notice sometimes that she was still growing and her body still changing. A year before last she was an entire head shorter then what she was now. The questions did not seem to stop. 

Éowyn smiled briefly at Théodred, before shaking her head. "Caeleb?" She said, turning to Niphrediel. "Will you be staying with us for some time?" 

Niphrediel thought for a moment before nodding slowly, "If I am welcome to, yes," She said. Niphrediel could not just get up and walk away. She needed to prepare. Get her things together to be sure that her journey would not be a perilous one. 

"Of course you are welcome," Théodred said, very quickly. 

Niphrediel shrugged, "Then I shall stay until I am more prepared to head off home." By all means, Niphrediel was so grateful. She failed to imagine what could have been happening to her if someone else had found her. 

"Terrific," Said Éowyn, her eyes twinkling in a smile her face could not express. "Have you ever been to Rohan, Caeleb?" 

Niphrediel shook her head. "No…never." 

"Grand," Éowyn said, her smile growing such that Niphrediel doubted a sunrise could be fairer. 

"Take her for a look around, cousin," Smiled Théodred, putting Alagos back down in a thickly walled chest. Turning back to both young women, Théodred lightly shrugged under his black and dark red tunic. "I will go to my duties and meet you after." 

Éowyn nodded, with a sly grin. "Try not to hurry _too _much, Théodred," She said, "We will be moving slowly, there will be no need." 

Théodred raised a dark brow, "What makes you think I would do that, oh dear cousin of mine?" 

Éowyn let out a quick laugh, "I know you too well, alas." 

Théodred shrugged again, his smile like a constant star. "I will try," He said, before beginning to walk away. "Take care, Caeleb," He said, before passing his cousin and turning into the hall. 

Niphrediel gave a short wave, before Théodred left, the absence of his presence making the room seem much more quiet. 

Éowyn watched her cousin leave, before turning back to Niphrediel. "Come," She said, giving a wave before leading Niphrediel out of the hall and through into another corridor 

"A great many of us are a generation of orphans," Éowyn mumbled quietly in front of Niphrediel, as she turned into another corridor. 

Niphrediel continued to follow, her brows now high. "Really?" 

"Aye," Éowyn said. "The children pay for their parent's errors." 

"Errors?" 

"Well…." Éowyn sighed, "That is what some like to call it." 

Niphrediel nodded, as Éowyn lead her through a large, golden hall from a door on its left side. Looking around quickly, Niphrediel noticed the pillars on each side of the hall, and the large chair at the end. Niphrediel could imagine a king sitting on that throne, but turned away when Éowyn quickly opened the doors that lead outside. 

The light of the day was not too bright, to Niphrediel's delight. The breeze was strong, and rather comforting as it stroked Niphrediel's face as she made her way onto the stone stair that overlooked the entire city. 

Niphrediel stood beside Éowyn for a long time, as if in a trance. The townspeople did what they wished, seen inside their homes and out. Fair-haired children played under the watch of their mothers on a large road that twisted down the mountain that Edoras was built around to another block of streets and houses at the foot. 

"Come," Éowyn said, after their long silence, before beginning to lead Niphrediel down the stairs and through onto the street. 

Niphrediel stuck close to Éowyn as they walked, glancing at people as they stopped to watch them move passed. They stared at Niphrediel strangely, with curiosity and weariness. Niphrediel could only give a small smile and keep on moving, not letting herself be too affected with being the outcast. 

"Where are we going?" Niphrediel asked, letting out a breath while speaking the words. 

Éowyn made no reaction to her question, but eventually answered. "The orphanage," She said. "It is seldom the children there are visited. By someone from another land, no less." 

Éowyn looked over a shoulder at Niphrediel, "Unless, of course, you do not want to go"— 

"No! I think that is a good idea," Niphrediel nodded, "It will be a joy to bring a touch of happiness to children much like I was." 

Éowyn nodded, her relief unnoticeable as she continued on her way. After passing only a few large houses, Éowyn pointed to the next one. "This is it," She said. 

Niphrediel nodded, looked up at the board above the door.It was initially difficult to read the words written on it, but with some luck, she eventually did. 

Éowyn walked to its lebethron door and opened it. Looking back behind her at Niphrediel, Éowyn simply gave a nod of her head before walking inside. 

Niphrediel grabbed onto the door a moment before it could close, and quickly walked through it. The smell of home cooking slapped Niphrediel on the cheek as soon as she took a step inside. Hmm…sweet smelling chicken with piping hot potatoes…or maybe syrupy tomato soup with some kind of beef stew. 

Boy oh boy, Niphrediel was getting hungry. 

The first rooms of the Edoras homes seemed to have a certain pattern. A small or large hall at the front with the bedrooms built around it. Niphrediel thought the concept quite clever. 

The room was full with about thirteen children, most about five or so. Every piece of furniture looked old and worn, but cosily so. The air inside was cool and sweet smelling, the scent of all the things that make a happy home. 

The children were all lying down on a huge, thick rug at the back of the room, with blankets and pillows shared evenly between each one. It was probably their naptime or something. 

Somehow, children look so much more beautiful when they are sleeping. 'Serenity in its most beautiful form', was how Gilraen used to describe that emotion she used to feel when watching Niphrediel sleep when she was a baby. Niphrediel missed those days… 

Some children who not yet totally asleep, but heading in that direction, looked up at Niphrediel with heavy eyes and blank expression. Even though they were half-asleep, Niphrediel could tell that they were rather taken back by the way she looked. 

Niphrediel was quite perplexed. Was it the hair? Surely, it must be…. right? 

"My lady Éowyn," said a kind, healthily rounded woman to Éowyn's left. 

She was perhaps in her late thirties, early forties, and the wrinkles on her face conveying years of laughter and happiness, or perhaps years of pain, or maybe both. Her hair was beginning to mingle with grey, and her eyes shone a dark mixture of green and blue. Short she was, the top of her head coming up in line in the middle between Niphrediel's shoulder and elbow, but nonetheless not without physical power. 

Éowyn gave the woman a bow of her head. "Raewyn," She smiled, "How do you fare today?" 

Raewyn shrugged, wiping her hands on the apron wrapped about her waist like an overskirt. "Tiresome," She smiled, nodding to the sleeping children, "But, then again, it is always so. What brings you here this afternoon?" 

Éowyn let out a short sigh. "Just a visit," She replied, her hands clasping together at her front as she turned to include Niphrediel. "Raewyn, this is a friend, Caeleb, of Bree. Caeleb, this is Raewyn, the matron." 

Raewyn and Niphrediel nodded to each other and smiled in unison. 

"How have things been?" Éowyn asked curiously after a brief silence, crossing her arms. 

Raewyn shrugged again. "Normal, I suppose," She began, "Two more lass's have come looking to help out with the children as of late. Their contribution has made things so much easier the past week. The more hands we have, the better." 

"This is Eadren and Rowena you speak of?" 

Raewyn nodded, "Aye." 

Éowyn seemed pleased. "Aye, that is good news. Unlike other things I have heard as of late. That is indeed a sunset to a cloudy day." 

Raewyn smiled sympathetically, patting Éowyn on the back with her soft stare. "There are many cloudy days in a season," Raewyn said, "But a season always changes into another." 

"That it does." 

Raewyn smiled again, but it slowly dwindled when the loud cries of a child from another room were heard. Raewyn sighed and shook her head. 

Éowyn's brows rose. "Rivanon still causing trouble?" 

Raewyn nodded, whipping her brow with a hand. 

Niphrediel frowned, her nostrils beginning to sting. Her sense of smell, like Aragorn's, had always been very, very acute. So….that would mean…. "Is something on fire?" Niphrediel asked, turning to the bedchamber door where the smell came from. Strangely, it was also where the child's screams where coming from. 

Raewyn frowned, and went to answer, but not before Niphrediel quickly took it upon herself and moved quickly to the side door and opened it. 

Niphrediel's eyes widened in horror. 

One of Raewyn's assistants, either Rowena or Eadren perhaps, of whom must have been watching the child inside, looked as if she had passed out some time ago on the bed at the end of the bedchamber. A well-built crib, positioned by the far circular window was undoubtedly where the child was crying. But that was not what horrified Niphrediel. What did was the fire that was quickly creping further and further up the wooden piece of furniture. 

Niphrediel could hear Raewyn scream behind her. 

"Water!" Niphrediel yelled to Éowyn, who quickly nodded and moved off, while Niphrediel hastily made her way over to the cot. 

The child inside it lay on its back, the fire and hot smoke underneath seeping into its little back. It screamed; eyes squinted as hot tears poured from them. 'What is happing?!' would be what the babe must have been thinking. It did not know what was happening. All it knew was that the pain hurt, and he wanted it to be stopped. 

Niphrediel did not give a moments hesitation before bringing her hands down to pick the child up. As the flames hugging the cot licked Nieninquë's hands, Niphrediel let out a cry, but her movements gave had neither pause nor stop at any given time. 

Niphrediel lifted the child up, careful to keep her hands onto on the sides of the babe's body, under the young one's armpits, in the means as to not disturb the fresh burn the clothed the child's left shoulder blade. 

As Niphrediel moved the child away, Éowyn came into the room with Raewyn and four of the more older children of the orphanage with large buckets of water in their hands. Alas, Niphrediel did not even think of the fire as she searched for a place to lay the child down. 

When she spotted a flat bed-like bench, Niphrediel moved to the side of the room where it was situated. Niphrediel assumed the piece of furniture was probably used to change the baby's diapers and such, as she lay the child down upon its stomach on the sheeted surface of it. Her eyes watered in the graveness of what she was doing as her hands moved over the back of the gown the babe wore. 

Her eyes lingered over the weeping flesh of the baby's shoulder blade as she ripped the material that the fire had not yet beseeched, and threw it over her shoulder when she had firmly taken it off _him. _Aye, now that Niphrediel could tell a little clearly, the child was indeed a boy. 

Niphrediel turned around, frantically looking to one of the children as she walked up to the cot to throw another bucket of water onto it. Niphrediel had not even thought to regard the soaking remains of the cot, but she could tell it was well put out. 

"You!" Niphrediel pointed, her voice's sudden authority immediately making the girl turn. 

Niphrediel desperately waved her over, her obvious desperation making the girl's nervousness all the more evident. "Bring me your bucket!" Niphrediel ordered. 

The girl nodded and rushed over to Niphrediel's side, the bucked held by both left and right hand. 

"Is the water cold?" Niphrediel asked quickly, not really caring wether it was or not, as she took the handle of the bucket with one hand and lifted it up by the bottom with her other. 

"Iced," was the girl's reply, as Éowyn moved her back. 

Éowyn's expression was blank as her eyes looked over the boy's body. Shock was swallowed down as Éowyn quickly turned to Niphrediel, "What can I do?" She asked. 

Niphrediel did not immediately answer, as she began to pour the cold water over the baby's welting pink back. "Do the Rohirrim carry a weed called Yarrow?" Niphrediel asked Éowyn as she calmly dowsed the infant's shoulder blade. 

Éowyn frowned, bringing her hand to her brow as she began to search her memory. "Yes," She said, after her short pause, "It's uncommon, but Raewyn should have some, at least in powder form. Would that be acceptable?" 

Niphrediel nodded. "That would be perfect," She said, as the water buckled at the halfway point. 

Éowyn moved off, as Raewyn crouched beside her apprentice, waking her up with rough shakes. Niphrediel glanced the Rohirrim women's direction for a mere moment before turning back to the baby. She paused a couple times, to move the boy's head from the growing puddle of water. His throat sounded like it had been shot from all his crying, but still the infant continued to do so. 

Who ever thought that watching the junior apprentices in Imladris would have been such a blessing, let alone the chores of having to learn a little of herb lore long ago as a child while Estel controlled the subjects of her schooling. Still, Niphrediel had only a mild idea of what she was doing. Watching someone treat such a burn would have been more complementary then reading about it. 

"Here, Caeleb," Said Éowyn, as she placed a bowl of the regarded powder down upon the bench. "I knew not that you were a healer," She said, taking a step forward. 

Niphrediel put the bucket down on the other side of the bench, dipping her hands in the remanding amount of water at the bottom. "I am not a healer," She said, as she began to mix the bowl's contents, the dampness of her hands making the powder turn almost clay-form as it did. 

"Then where did you learn these things?" Éowyn asked, her brow itching to rise. 

Taking a handful of the mixed ingredients, Niphrediel began applying it to the pink flesh of the child's back. At first the impact of something against such a sensitive area was met with the sounds of the child's cries, but as the herb began to sooth and calm the pain, the cries did not last long. 

Layer after layer, Niphrediel applied the thick ointment til there was no more in the bowl. "My…ah...father," Niphrediel answered, rinsing her hands in the water of the bucket afterwards. 

_"Rowena! How could you have been so foolish?!" _It was hard not to hear Raewyn's exclamation from the bed. 

_"Forgive me, mistress. I must have passed out! Please believe I would not have done anything with the knowledge that it would, in any way, hurt Rivanon!" _Rowena cried. 

Niphrediel shook her head, her action making the conversation behind her muffle as her attention shifted elsewhere. Without having to even ask, Éowyn handed a long piece of cloth, most definitely a sheet. Niphrediel tore a large line of it, and wrapped the long piece over and around the boy, as to cover the entire skin of his back but leave his arms out to be able to allow him to move them. 

Niphrediel let out a breath when she was done, and lifted the boy into Raewyn's arms. 

Raewyn held the child in her motherly arms, and brushed back tears. Looking up at Niphrediel with reddened eyes, Raewyn shook her head, her gesture oblivious. There was nothing she could say to express her gratitude either way. "Hath you a place to stay, Caeleb?" She asked. 

Niphrediel thought of a reply. '_Well, kind of. In your prince's bed.' _Perhaps that actual truth could be spent for just a moment. "Uh, no, actually." 

Raewyn nodded, taking her answer into regard as she brought a hand up to wipe a tear away. "Well, you are always welcome here," She said quietly, her voice seeming to just cut off as she tried to speak. 

Niphrediel beamed and nodded, turning to Éowyn behind her who gave a warm stare in place of a smile to her in response. _She smiles not to you, Niphrediel. She smiles to Caeleb, the girl from Bree. _Niphrediel turned back to Raewyn, her thoughts suddenly less mirthless. 

"Thankyou," Niphrediel said, her tone almost shy, "If you have no room, then that will be understandable. You do not have"— 

"I know I do not _have_ to," Raewyn interrupted subtly, as the child in her hands began to reach out to Niphrediel, its blue eyes upon the dark-haired maiden's face with an expression close to fascination. When Raewyn finally noticed, she noted that it was only the expression that rather 'outspoken' child wore when watching the Riddermark horses trot passed. 

Raewyn jiggled the boy in her arms before looking back to Niphrediel, "I will be able to house you at least for a week. If you need to remain for longer still, that should not be a problem." 

Niphrediel's eyes widened, "Really?" 

Raewyn nodded, "Of course. You may have to help with the children, but I do not think that will be much of a problem for you." 

Niphrediel shrugged, rather flabbergasted. "Ah, very well then." 

Éowyn nodded at Niphrediel's side, "Aye, shall you be able to have things ready for Niphrediel in a couple days, Raewyn?" 

Raewyn smiled at Éowyn, the wryness of her mouth making her answer rather obvious. "Of course," She said, moving the baby's hands down as they tried to reach out to Niphrediel. Looking down at the babe, Raewyn sighed, "I think this one should sleep at least. I doubt there is anything else the busy healers in the Healing House could help with much more." 

"Alas, that is too true." Éowyn sighed, taking hold of a small piece of Niphrediel's sleeve between two fingers and giving it a soft tug. "With your quest to attend to, I think both I and Caeleb should leave you both to your duty." 

"Ai, that would be best," Niphrediel seconded, and Raewyn, also agreeing, lead the youths through the now living throng of children to the door. 

"Éowyn?" Niphrediel frowned, leaning against the back of the door as Éowyn began to move on. At her call, Éowyn doubled back, her hair swaying like pale gold as she did. 

"Why are there so many orphans?" Niphrediel asked. 

Then, there was a long silence. Éowyn's stare lowered down, and in that moment Niphrediel saw the lightest smudge of swallowed pain. For long still, the silence remained, and it was only brought to an end by Éowyn's footsteps as she began to move away, back to what Niphrediel guessed was the home of the 'royal family' of this quiet city. 

Niphrediel supposed, with thanks, that their walk was brought to an end, and thus followed Éowyn back to the Golden Hall of Meduseld. There they talked 'til the day was utterly spent, and the time of day faded to sundown. 

Later in the evening, inside the walls of the dining chamber, Niphrediel was invited to dine with the tight-knitted family of sorts. Though it was almost unbearable to be seated opposite Gríma, Théodred's quiet exchanges with her took her mind off it. Niphrediel also met the gorgeous girl Rowena, and Théodred and Éomer's good friend Bowdyn. Alas, Niphrediel had no opportunity to say hello to the fellow for his time was mostly spent flirting sweetly with Rowena whilst sipping his broth. It was quite a surprise when Niphrediel, or Caeleb rather, found out that it was the first time they had met. 

After being healthily feed, and after the exit of King Théoden, escorted by Gríma, the conversation lighted ever so slightly. Niphrediel tried not to not seem perplexed at the way the King looked…. his body was old and skin flaked; as if he were long dead but his mind did not know it. She could not help looking from Théodred to Théoden wondering…how?! She could never speak those things allowed…she noticed the small things Théodred would do to try and get his father to speak. They never seemed to work, and Niphrediel could see Théodred's shoulders sink in defeat every time. The sight itself was secretly heartbreaking. 

It was long in the night when the group of young people began to feel the pressures of sleep, and Niphrediel was quite sure that after a mere one day of being in this place her social circle had grown somewhat. Alas, sooner rather then later, Niphrediel began to feel the pull of the thought of bed, and just like the rest of the young few, retired to bed. 

Niphrediel was sent back into the prince's room, having been assured that Théodred was going to take homage on the floor of Éomer's chambers. There was quite a long discussion that took place before Niphrediel agreed to sleep there, for she could not help but feel horribly guilty. 

Niphrediel's imagination was too tired to dream, so instead her mind was given the gift of temporary blankness. The sweet sensation of forgetting what would be her future perplexes was indeed a rare treat, so Niphrediel lapped it up in peace. 

Niphrediel turned in the blankets onto her right side, the night in bloom and darkness such that she could see that outlines of objects in the room from the light given by the full moon shining through the window. Éowyn had given her a nightgown, so Niphrediel was clothed in the foreign clothing once again, of which she was grateful. 

Niphrediel's eyelids began to stir, yet remained closed, and a short sigh left her words as her rest was anonymously disturbed. With one hand under the puffy white pillow that her head lay on, her other slowly moved under the pillow unused on the side. 

As the creaking of wood accidentally spoiled the sound of ruffling blankets, Niphrediel's hand shot out from bellow the pillow, with the knife she held with it, in a rapid swing made to strike something that stood behind her. Niphrediel's eyes bolted open, widened in hurry and anger. 

Before Niphrediel clearly saw the person standing over her with his dark shadow, his hand clasped onto her wrist before the blade in her hand had the chance of connecting with his flesh. 

"Caeleb! Caeleb!" A voice hissed quickly, startled and anxious. 

Niphrediel's grip on the knife loosened, and she felt its short hilt begin to dangle as her fingers numbed. "Théodred?!" She questioned fiercely, trying to hiss yet voice sounding more soft then what she would have preferred. 

The convicted bent over her and nodded, and then brought under the light of the moon, Niphrediel could see it was indeed the silly youth. 

Niphrediel gaped, eyes still wide though now depicting a much different set of emotions. Niphrediel shook her head, abolished, and pulled herself up onto her knees before quickly slapping Théodred on the back of his head. She cursed herself afterwards, of course, for her foolish reflex. 

"What are you doing?" Niphrediel barked quietly, checking the door just in case their exchange had been louder then intended. 

Théodred let go of Niphrediel's wrist to bring his hand to the back of his head as he stood silent for a moment, quite shocked at his subtle punishment, yet also biting his bottom lip to keep himself from laughing. 

"Éomer's snores would disturb a deaf man's sleep," He said quickly, eyes wide as if to show his honesty. "I did not think I would disturb you." He glanced at his knife still limply held in Niphrediel's hand. "How"— 

"I found it on your desk." Niphrediel pointed. "Just…. in case." 

Théodred raised an eyebrow, "Right." He moved off and began to toy with a large, long banner that was hung about two metres left of the bed. He pulled the top down, and attached the latch on the end with a rope tied back against another wall to make something absurdly resemblant to a hammock. 

Théodred whistled as he strolled to a cabinet on the other end of his room and pulled out a spare blanket and pillow, and made his way back to his sleeping place and threw the objects on it. "Go back to sleep," He said with a grin to Niphrediel, knowing fully well that she would not be able to get back to sleep for a while indeed. 

Niphrediel lay back down on the pillows, though sat up a little more against them with the blanket tidily lined over her stomach. She sighed, rubbing sleep out of her eye as the content Rohirric fellow jumped on his hammock and looked up at the roof a little way at her side. 

Niphrediel sighed in lightly shamed frustration and rolled onto her stomach, her bar arms bent with her hands in tiny fists on either sides of her head. Usually, she would have rolled onto her other side _away _from Théodred, but alas, this was her preferred side. If she was going to try and sleep, she would have to be as comfortable as possible, darn it! 

Her little plan seemed to work, until she heard someone else laughing. 

Niphrediel's eyes opened, her glare transfixed on the older boy who had his hand over his mouth as he looked at her. Her brow arced, as she lifted her head off the pillow. "What?" Did she have something in her hair? 

Théodred shook his head, his laughter fading as he tried to speak. "It just looks strange to me." 

Niphrediel frowned slightly. "What does?" 

Théodred brought his fist over his stomach, perhaps trying to stop the source of his giggles. "Seeing a woman lying in my bed. It looks strange." 

Niphrediel bit her lip to keep from laughing, as she rolled her eyes and threw a pillow at the prince's head. "Well, do not fear," Niphrediel grinned, settling her head back down against the pillow, still keeping eye contact as she spoke. "The woman Raewyn at the orphanage said I would be able to stay there when she prepares a place for me to sleep." 

"Oh?" 

Niphrediel nodded, yawning. "I helped with something, so she thought it would be a nice gesture to thank me," She said, shortening the facts in thorough modesty. "As long as I help with some things like Eadren and Rowena, I suppose." 

"Ai, Rowena," Théodred mumbled, beginning to change topic. "I predict she shall be a bride within the year!" He declared with a boyish smile. 

"Bowdyn?" 

"Aye," Théodred nodded. "They will probably become engaged within the next two days." 

Niphrediel could not help but show her surprise. "But had they not just met tonight?" 

Théodred nodded again, letting the hammock swing gently like a crib to the music of an unheard lullaby. "Aye, they had. But engagements are made quickly nowadays about the topic of marriage." 

Niphrediel's brow rose at that. "Why is that?" 

Théodred shrugged, showing obviously that things about such a topic were not necessarily important to him. "Things have not been very fortunate with the Rohirrim's business with fiends riding through our lands." Théodred grinned wryly, "I must say you are probably the finest thing from distant lands that we have seen for a fair while." 

Niphrediel would have laughed, but instead just smiled, remaining disturbed by the first part of Théodred's answer. And yet, with only a moment of silence and a sigh, Niphrediel let her questions on that subject go, and instead she chose something else to ponder on. 

"What happens in a Rohirric wedding?" She asked curiously, brows high in earnest. 

Théodred took a deep breath before beginning. "Well…" He began, "Most betrothals would have been made a couple months earlier, though that has been changed as of late, as I had said. Most weddings are planned by the bride and groom's weddings, or at least the ones I know of." 

"On the day of the ceremony the bride and groom go to their desired place with their separate escorts and the bride is taken to a tent set aside for her. She is dressed and kept away from her groom who probably paces anxiously outside, no doubt! She usually wears treasures of her family to show her status, and the colours those of her family and clan, as well as the groom. The ceremonies are usually set in either the afternoon or the evening, when the groom and his and the bride's families have welcomed all their guests and such. A close male relative fetches the bride from the tent and take her to where the groom would be waiting by a sacred fire of sorts, usually. 

"The bride and groom make their oath beside the fire with their hands on top of the hilt of the groom's sword. Then this sword is used for the ritual cutting of…" Théodred held up his arm to point at his hands and wrist, "to make the union of their blood. A ribbon's then woven around their wrists to join them, either by the bride or her mother…whatever. It's supposed to be lucky the longer bride and groom manage to keep the ribbon tying them together in place." 

Niphrediel smiled, imagining watching the happenings as Théodred explained, ignoring the tone of his voice that confirmed that he did not think much of what he spoke of. 

"After the feast, the couple are sent to their tent under rather humorous encourages," Théodred laughed. 

Niphrediel laughed, too, even though she tried to stop herself from doing so. Taking in a breath, she idly decided she was going to have a Rohirric wedding if ever put in the choice. 

"Will you?" Théodred asked, amused indeed. 

Niphrediel made a quick 'huh'. Had she spoken aloud? 

Théodred shrugged when Niphrediel did not answer, "An excellent choice. Weddings here are wonderful things." Maybe he did not think so lowly of them after all… 

Niphrediel inwardly laughed. _No, Niphrediel. You? Married? My dear, those two things just do not connect in even the lightest way._

Niphrediel and Théodred talked about many silly and serious things, until the sun rose and tinted the room in dreaded sunlight as they began to feel fitting to finally sleep. Laughing to each other that they would both finally be ready for the day at noon, Théodred made his last joke before both he and Niphrediel forced themselves to sleep. 

After the third day of staying in Edoras, Niphrediel stopped counting. After another two days after that, Niphrediel's ideas of leaving began to dwindle as she found herself beginning to cling to the city and its people. _Galadriel has her mirror, _she thought, _she knows where I am._

Niphrediel moved into the spare room of Raewyn's orphanage, her only task she had to deal with in return for board being to keep Rivanon happy, which was not a hard thing to do at all since she was the only person that the child actually liked. 

Niphrediel's days were spent with Éowyn, of whom had made Niphrediel aware that she had a gift of making the Shieldmaiden smile, which seemed to be indeed a rare gift. She also spent time with Théodred and Éomer, keeping her distance from Gríma who chose to stare at her whenever they stood in the same room. What could Niphrediel say? The man made her skin crawl. 

As Théodred had predicted, Bowdyn and Rowena were wedded secretly in no time, as were four other young couples. Indeed, the youth of Edoras seemed much enchanted with the idea of marriage, giving themselves no time to think the consequences out before diving headfirst into a life they may easily end up regretting. 

Niphrediel smelt the change of season almost as much as she felt the change within. She was growing up. Being around these people who did not think her a child made her feel more of an adult, even if she was a young one. The common public treated her well, like a noble. Niphrediel just had to ignore the rumours that flew around about her and Théodred, and she could walk down the street most jovially. 

Théodred…Niphrediel was a little confused on that subject. Strangely enough, he had become a close friend to her, as close, if not more, then Éowyn. He made her laugh, and treated her kindly with patience. He tested her intelligence and wit, and always seemed to be there to beckon her away when Gríma sought to start a conversation with her. Perhaps Niphrediel was oblivious to the stronger way Théodred felt about her, or perhaps she simply ignored it… 

*** 

"This is where my forefather lie," Théodred pointed to the lands coaxed with the white flowers. "And where I will one day," He added, with a proud grin. 

Niphrediel bent down and plucked a flower from the grass. _Alfirin._

"Its called _Simbelmynë._" Théodred said beside her, seeing Niphrediel looking at the flower with an expression that he had thought of as confusion. 

Niphrediel pretended to have not known that fact, and smiled at Théodred with a curt nod. She lowered herself onto her knees, looking about at the flowers before her. She breathed their scent in, laughing internally at whom she was reminded of when she did so. _Legolas! Ha. _Niphrediel's expression dulled as she tried to imagine what, perhaps, the elf was doing at that exact time. Was he doing well? Niphrediel hoped so. 

Niphrediel inwardly sighed, looking up to Théodred who was staring at her with a rather daunting expression. She still had not gotten used to it, and rubbed her hands against the thigh of her gown as she did. 

"What is it?" Niphrediel asked, biting back concern. 

Théodred raised an eyebrow, almost in a suspicious way. "Will you marry me?" He asked. 

Niphrediel dropped back onto her behind in instant shock. "Excuse me?" She exclaimed, rubbing her ears as if perhaps they had played a trick on her. 

Théodred shrugged. "You heard," He said, simply. 

Niphrediel's eyes widened all the more, her features so very shocked while Théodred remained coolly calm. "Are you…mad?" Niphrediel shook her head, making her hair tidily brushed about her shoulders sway. 

Théodred grinned, letting out a short giggle. "I hope not," He said quietly, biting his bottom lip, which was the only indication that he was even the tiniest bit nervous. 

Niphrediel shook her head. "No, you most definitely are," She blurted, waving her hand in the air as she spoke. 

"Why?" Théodred laughed loudly, not seeming daunting in the least, which made the pit in Niphrediel's gut began to disappear as something bright filled it. How could it feel like excitement because of the way _he _was responding? Niphrediel was confused. 

"Well…." Niphrediel shrugged expressively. "I don't know! You just are!" _No, Niphrediel. He thinks you are someone you are not to begin with. Secondly, you are a child! What would Aragorn say when he found out?! The boy does not know your name! Your lineage! Besides, he is just your good friend….and….and he does not even know you…and you do not care for him that strongly. You have not even thought about him in such a manner once!_

That was true. But, then, why did Niphrediel want to say yes? Foolish young girl. 

_No, Niphrediel. Do not taint this place more then you already have._

"Théodred," Niphrediel began, her mirth fading very quickly, "I….You….We….You do not know me!" 

Théodred shrugged, walking to her, "I will." 

Niphrediel shook her head furiously, "You do not even know my name." Niphrediel's heart skipped a beat in fear as she prepared herself for the harsh sting of rejection. 

Théodred was then crouching down in front of her, and as the meaning of her words soaked into him, she watched his expression become blank. "Caeleb…." 

Niphrediel shook her head, "Niphrediel." 

Théodred frowned, his dark eyes shadowing. "Nif-fred-de-elle?…" 

Niphrediel shrugged, not really caring of his pronunciation, "Niphrediel, daughter of Arathorn and Gilraen. I have an older brother named Aragorn…aiya…" Niphrediel cringed, and stopped speaking. There was nothing she could say. 

"Why did you lie?" Théodred frowned. 

Niphrediel sighed, shaking her head. "Once I started, I found I needed another lie after another to support my story and so on and so forth. Once I threw Caeleb out there…. I found I could not take her back." 

Théodred sighed, rubbing the back of his hand against his brow. That was usually not a good sign. "Anything else?" 

Niphrediel paused before shaking her head and lowering it as she leaned down the ground with her hands gripping the grass in front of her skirt. 

"You are Gondorian?" 

Niphrediel nodded, happy at least that she was not crying. She hated crying. It was so…. so stupid; so very weak and so very stupidly feminine. 

Théodred's hands gripped the ends on her jaw as he made her look up whilst talking. Niphrediel watched his hands return to his sides a little too quickly. "You lied." 

"I am sorry!" Niphrediel whispered with a surged nod. 

Théodred smiled and shushed her, "Its all right, is all right! Stop changing the subject, now." 

Niphrediel froze and stared at Théodred in bewilderment. 

"I am not stupid," Théodred began, "I know your path will lead you away from me. I know you will end up leaving my home, wether it be for a week or a year. But I know I will be waiting here for you, and that if you promise yourself to me one day then you will come back to me sooner or later." 

Niphrediel's lips parted as she listened so confused and yet with thoughts so strangely clear. 

"I know you are young," Théodred assured, a certain amount of desperation as he tried to get his points through, "And I know that things like romantic relationships are things you are not acquainted with. Though I am no master in the same sense, I am patient. I would never, ever rush you. Lo! I would wait twenty years for one kiss on the check if you made me do so." 

Niphrediel held back a laugh. 

"Well?" Théodred pondered, brows high, hopeful. 

Niphrediel decided to act unknowing. "Well what?" 

"Will you marry me?" 

Niphrediel looked suspiciously into the lad's eyes, as one would to test another for lies or truth. Then, not without thinking, and not without wryness, did she answer. "Very well," She said, cautiously, and strangely casually, with a shrug of her shoulders. 

Niphrediel ignored her conscience, allowing her faux peace to come when she felt herself being held back with the same amount of intensity. 

Théodred cheered loudly before running up to Niphrediel and picking her up into a tight embrace. Niphrediel did not laugh, but her smile was lit like a small, yet blazing, candle. 

Théodred took that response joyously, and kissed Niphrediel's temple as he held on to her to keep himself from falling over. "I be with you til the end," He mumbled, almost as a reminder to himself of how long he was going to love her. 

Niphrediel patted the back of Théodred's head. "Very well. Just remember my brother's consent is an essential." They laughed. 

That night, the news was declared, and a very rare celebration took place. It was a night of music and temporary joy. But even that had to come to an end. 

And, it did. 

The next morning, Niphrediel had to wake up early to get Rivanon dressed and washed before meeting Éowyn on the balcony of the Golden Hall to watch Éomer, Théodred and many other Riders of the Riddermark as they rode away. 

Niphrediel waved to the dark horse and his rider that seemed more hesitant to go, and lowered her arm only when Éomer's beckoning eventually lured Théodred away. 

"Are you afraid?" Éowyn asked beside Niphrediel. 

Niphrediel shifted Rivanon on her hip; her left arm around him and hand arced under the thigh of his leg against her stomach. "Not really," Niphrediel said, looking to the maiden beside her. "But ask me when I have to wait for someone to cut my hand or my wrist and we shall see." 

Niphrediel held back her fear of what was going to happen as the land's of Rohan grew more restless. Niphrediel could not bite back this horrid feeling in the pit of her stomach, as if she were a mixture of sick and dirty. Niphrediel did not want to listen to her body. Its signals were not good ones, and that was what she needed. 

Éowyn smiled, "I will." 

Niphrediel nodded, and then both Éowyn and she walked away. 

  


* * *

**Note:** Want some reasons for why things have happened? Here's some. 

Vision? What the hell?? Well I always had that plot stir in this story in mind, but I didn't know exactly where to put it in. Then, with the creation of the Herentur/Saerion character, I thought of it as my chance to slot it in somewhere. 

Why did I make Éowyn have such an automatic liking to Niphrediel? Well, I figure, Niphrediel's a lot like the (very) younger, happier version of Aragorn in a way, or at least an adaptation of a certain aspect of his mind at that stage. She's curious, naïve, intelligent, trust-worthy and genuine. Éowyn takes to Aragorn like a fish to water when she first meets him, and so, I figure, since Niphrediel's presence would not be much unlike his, Éowyn would very much take a liking to her in the same manner. Though, since Niphrediel is female and such, Éowyn's hopes of relationship with her would be only in friendship. 

Oh! I'm –so- bummed I'm gonna have to cut bits and pieces out to get the story rolling, but I've got heaps to get out, with not too much room. Why mostly movie verse? It just makes it a little easier for both reader's and me, myself. Yes, I have read the books, but I mean that in a way that I would rather compete with Peter Jackson's 'interpretation' then Tolkien's for some way. Why is that? Because it makes me feel less guilty about changing the story to fit around our Neph! ^_^ 

Thanks for the reviews everyone! And thanks (NOT!) to my professors who have been giving me mountains of assignments lately because they're bitches: I hate you all, except the lovely Miss Jones. Oh! And while I'm acknowledging some people, I'd like to say thankyou to everyone that has reviewed, again! I'd list down all your names but I should upload this thing, yes? 

R&R, Constructive Criticism, ya'know the deal. 

**AND: **Our special group return in the next chapter. Aragorn! Legolas! Gimli! Hurray! 


	11. Chapter ten: Lament for Théodred

**Chapter ten: Lament for Théodred**

*****

*****

***** **Note: **For OverCastDay.   


* * *

Niphrediel slept a short sleep, after Rivanon had finally stopped crying. _Foolish toothache, _Niphrediel had thought, _bones should have more consideration. _The moment Niphrediel had been certain that the child was asleep; she practically sprinted for her room. In her hurry to sleep, she had stripped to her white shift and dumped herself on top of the bed. 

_The garden was bright. Green and lush, and untimely familiar. The ancient fountain had not changed; it was still overrun subtly with vines of flowers and moss. The grass was thick and soft under Niphrediel's bare feet, and the alfirins and niphredils were still borne from the soil in forest-like abundance._

_Niphrediel parted her mouth, her eyes still searching around her in slight anxiety._

_"Aragorn?" Niphrediel's voice echoed again and again, and her hands tightened into fists at her sides. "Legolas?"_

**_Caeleb…_**

Niphrediel turned her head, the wind of which was suddenly picking up brushing against her cheek like an invisible finger. At first the voice sounded like the one of her mother, and yet as it echoed again and again through the garden, it lowered, to the tone of a male's. Niphrediel frowned. It was familiar. 

_"Mother?" Niphrediel called out, with a frown. Her face was wiped of its disturbed emotion, though, as she began to watch the greenery around her rot to black, dead plantation with abnormal speed. It was as if a wave of fire had took the air, taking everything in its bath._

_Niphrediel's eyes widened somewhat, mouth parting as she watched in a daze between afraid and startled, and unbelieving._

**_Niphrediel…? Wake up…_**

_Niphrediel cringed, feeling herself shaking…. feeling herself _being_ shaken._

**_Awake, Niphrediel… Awake…_**

_Niphrediel took a step back, her pupils dilating. "I'm asleep," She breathed, as everything became dark._

"Niphrediel?" 

Niphrediel's raw eyes opened, the cold air of twilight making her eyes ache somewhat from the loss of her eyelids to keep the cold at bay. 

The strange blur of darkness and shadows suddenly formed shapes, and bright blue eyes acted like a lamp as Niphrediel found them lit, almost directly above her. 

Théodred leaned over her, dressed in a rather fresh-looking black and green ensemble. His hair was brushed, styled with casualty. 

"What are youdoing here?" Niphrediel asked, groggily, rubbing her reddening eyes. She coughed afterwards, to rid herself of the clump in her throat. 

"I cannot wait," Théodred said, quietly, like a little boy ashamed of admitted to wanting an unfashionable toy in front of another. 

Niphrediel frowned, lifting herself up from her bed and taking her hand away from her eyes. "Shouldn't you be with your party? They"— 

"Shhh," Théodred cut her off, with a knowing, sweet smile. Still smiling, he quickly looked Niphrediel over, as one would to make sure another wore the correct clothing. His brow momentarily furred when he looked over the sleeveless shift Nieninquë was wearing. He touched her cold upper arm, shaking his head when it felt like he was touching ice. 

"Come on," He whispered, changing the subject completely, and taking Niphrediel's hand with his own, already leading her off the bed before she even had time to agree. 

Niphrediel let out a tiny groan, but allowed Théodred to drag her out. He was stronger then she was, anyway. She wanted sleep, but the sooner Théodred did whatever he seemed to want to do, the sooner he would return to the safety of his party. 

Théodred led her out of the orphanage, and then quickly picked Niphrediel up to carry her over the harsh stone road that led them to the wheat fields. Niphrediel would have argued, if not for the fact that she was asleep against Théodred's shoulder for the entire time. Sooner, rather then later, as Théodred began crossing over fields, Niphrediel awoke once more and began to walk by herself. 

* * *

"My brother's consent is essential!" Whined Niphrediel, as Théodred continued to pull her by hand. 

Théodred looked over his shoulder, "Then we will just deny this happened if he declines our union. Besides, it is just for fun. For Closure!" 

"For _your _closure, you mean." 

"Precisely!" 

The two youth's rose over a high field, creating clear silhouettes against the pre-risen sunlight behind them. 

"You are sure I will not get in trouble?" Niphrediel asked, trying her hand at a little falsetto. 

"We can always deny it!" Théodred looked back, chuckling, before leading both himself and Niphrediel to the field bellow. 

"Théodred"— 

"Shhh," hushed Théodred, "Look around you." 

Niphrediel arced a brow, but did as asked, and looked around. The wheat grew high, almost to Niphrediel's hips, and there were ancient stumps of what may have been walls nearby that now had grape and berry vines growing over them. 

As if on cue, the sun's red light began to taint the sky even more so, allowing Niphrediel to see all the more clearer. 

"I used to come here when I was a boy," said Théodred, his voice quiet, just for her ears. "The walls were higher then," he pointed. 

"Age does that," Niphrediel mumbled, absently, her voice just a clear indication of her insignificant thoughts. 

"Age can only do so much," Théodred commented, and Niphrediel was not as much of an idiot as to not know he was not talking about the walls, but rather something more internal. Théodred looked around once more, his stare a smiling one at the small peach tree a couple metres to his left. "I always promised myself that I would be married here." 

Niphrediel's head wiped back to Théodred, brows risen at the 'm' word. 

"This is just a promise ceremony anyway. Like a marriage in a way except it can be done between friends both of opposite sex and no. It binds two people's spirits in loyalty and friendship, rather then love and matrimony," Théodred assured her, with a chuckle. "Do not worry! Your brother's consent we need, and so, one day, we shall obtain!" 

Niphrediel was, by all means, relieved. She was not ready to be married in the near future, either way. Théodred must have known so, for he did not question it, nor say he could not wait until she was ready for that river to cross. 

"Besides," Théodred locked her stare with his own, and shrugged. "I told you I could not wait for a binding of _some _sort," Niphrediel laughed quietly as he spoke on, "Yes, we do not have tents, or really anything for that matter…but…" 

Niphrediel's eyebrows clotted together in a rather wry expression, "But…?" 

"But, it should not matter!" Théodred declared, taking a step back and spreading his arms out like wings, his voice becoming loud and clear as if he just realised there was no one but them in the area. "_There's_ our sacred fire!" He cheered, gesturing blindly to the sun, making Niphrediel laugh. "_There _is our living witness," He pointed to the peach tree. "And here is our ribbon," Théodred took a long line of fine, black, plaited human hair. Long it was, bound at both ends with leather bands. 

Niphrediel's expression must have asked the question before her mouth had the chance to, for Théodred spoke once more. "My mothers hair," stated he, with a smile. "Oh! But I did not bring my sword with me! Curse me!" Théodred shouted, angry at himself, gripping the back of his neck a little too tightly. 

"That is all right!" Niphrediel assured proudly, taking out Théodred's knife that she still kept at her side at night from its leather sheath in her shift's only pocket. "Here," She said, taking a step forward and giving Théodred the knife. 

Shaking his head while looking down at the dagger, Théodred made a sound similar to 'hehe' in obvious excitement. "Very well then. It seems we have everything," He took a deep breath and took a step forward so there was less a metres distance between he and his bride. 

He held out one hand holding the hilt of the large knife to Niphrediel, the blade pointing down. Niphrediel bit her lip to keep the butterflies down as she put her hand over his, which was given companionship by Théodred's other hand, and vice versa. 

"I, Théodred, son of Théoden, King of Rohan, stand before…." Théodred glanced around him, his smile turning into a sheepish grin as he tilted his head low enough to place itself against Niphrediel's forehead. "Tree and country"—Niphrediel laughed—"to take this woman, the Lady Niphrediel, daughter of…..Arachorn?"— 

"Arathorn," Niphrediel grinned. 

"Arathorn!….and Gilpain?"— 

"Gilraen," Niphrediel said with a bright smirk, kicking Théodred's shin in notice of his purposeful mistakes. 

Théodred nodded, with a grin, without reaction to Niphrediel's small kick. "To be my awfully charming and abundantly obeying friend," Théodred winked smugly, his eyelashes brushing against Niphrediel's eyebrows as he did. "I swear on both heart and life to love her and stand by her in support til death……" Théodred stopped, suddenly disturbed. 

Niphrediel's brow arced, but before she opened her mouth to speak, Théodred's voice cut her off. 

"Til death, _and_ beyond," Théodred said proudly, before adding, under his breath, "Death can only do so much." 

Niphrediel smiled, and then coughed to clear her throat. "I, Niphrédiel, daughter of Arathorn, stand before tree and country to take this boy—I mean, man," Niphrediel poked her tongue out at Théodred, who simply chose to smile back at her, strangely amused. "Théodred, son of Théoden and"— 

"Elfhild," Théodred said softly, knowing well that Niphrediel did not know his mother's name. 

Niphrediel nodded, in quick appreciation, "Elfhild, to be my rottenly spoilt, incredibly demanding friend. I swear on both heart _and _liver," Théodred stifled a loud laugh, "to stand by him in support til death and beyond!" 

Théodred cackled melodramatically, "Now, this is the tricky part," He whispered, taking Niphrediel's hands off knife and bringing its tip to the centre of his palm. Pressing it down, drawing blood almost immediately, Théodred finally stopped when just enough had gathered in a tiny puddle over his cut. 

Niphrediel smiled, and snatched the knife off him, then did the same with her left hand. "Done," She said. 

Théodred beamed, "Nearly done!" He said, before taking Niphrediel's hand in his, letting their blood mingle. Then, without a word, he slowly tied his mother's braid around their wrists, afterwards content to breath the fresh air of…promised life. 

Sooner rather then later, Niphrediel talked Théodred into allowing her to lie down in the wheat. 'Better that or I just collapse' she said, of which made Théodred more alarmed then amused. Of course, Niphrediel had to wait for him to carve an inscription into the trunk of the peach tree. It was their witness, anyways. 

_Théodred, son of Théoden,_

_Promised to_

_Niphrediel, daughter Arathorn,_

_Upon the day of all days._

Niphrediel knew the last part was just made from Théodred's small attempt to make up for the fact that he had forgotten the date. It was an easy mistake, of course. Niphrediel did not even want to count how many days she had been in Rohan, instead of trying to return to Lothlorien. 

Now, though, Niphrediel laid on her stomach, her arm laid diagonally over Théodred's chest and abdomen to where his hand was upon the grass beside his hip. Her head was placed on his shoulder, more out of comfort then affection. The wheat was slightly annoying once it began to get too attached to her hair. 

"What if I was never ready to marry?" Niphrediel frowned, her eyelids growing heavy. "Or have an intimate relationship of any kind, for that matter?" 

Théodred would have shrugged, "Then we will just have to be the bests of friends." 

Niphrediel smiled and nodded, "You would not hate me?" 

"Hate? You? I find myself quite incapable to imagining myself doing so," Théodred grinned. "Do not worry, Niphrediel. If you change your mind, I will not be hurt. I will understand, and support your decision. What kind of marriage would I have if you felt pressured to join with me in the first place?" 

"True." 

Théodred nodded with a smile, "Sleep." 

It was only a moment before Niphrediel's eyes closed, and she began to waste away, leaving Théodred to watch from where he lounged back, wide-eyed. 

He sighed, at peace. He could see her fading into sleep, and though he wished she were more awake to share in his celebrations, he was content either way. He felt like he could fly, or he had just drunken the most brilliant mead in existence. Happiness like his could not have been completely natural. That was just impossible. 

He kissed Niphrediel's forehead, telling himself repeatedly not to do anything more, least without her consent and knowledge. Yet, he just could not help it. He leaned over and kissed her unmoving lips briefly, softly, not sure wether he wanted her to notice or not. 

She did not move, her breathing was still slow. Niphrediel had not noticed. 

Théodred was pleased either way, content to shut his eyes and just feel the tingles her lips gave him when his made contact with them. _Ah well, _he thought. _I suppose she will never know about that one._

"My princess…" Théodred whispered, and then he was silent. 

* * *

When Niphrediel awoke, she was lying in Théodred's much warmer bed bellow three layers of blankets. She slept alone, though. Théodred was not here, and Niphrediel knew he was no longer in Edoras for that matter. 

Lifting her head from her pillow, Niphrediel could see that the only change made to her body was the silver ring on a finger of her left hand, with tiny rubies placed here and there amongst sapphires and one simple diamond in the centre. 

It was old, even Niphrediel could tell, and it was both feminine and masculine. 

Kissing it once, Niphrediel turned around and went back to sleep. 

* * *

It had been a long morning, and midday had come with a blaze of sun and gust of breeze. 

Niphrediel lay down on the hammock in her room in Raewyn's orphanage. She rested soundly, with Rivanon on his stomach on top of her, his head against her chest.Niphrediel's hand patting down his back as the hammock gently rocked in the warm sunlight, as she stared at the roof in her subtle daydreams. 

Until she heard the sound of horses, which meant the company had returned! 

"Théodred," Niphrediel mumbled, as if to remind herself. She slowly etched off the hammock and left Rivanon sleeping on her bed as she quietly slipped out. 

Shutting the door behind her, Niphrediel walked out into the suddenly dimmed streets. Niphrediel looked at the battle-worn, dirty faces of the lifeless riders that rode pass and Niphrediel already knew something was wrong. 

She griped her fine green skirts at her hip before she began to jog to the Golden Hall. _Théodred….._ Something was _wrong. _Something had gone wrong. Badly wrong. _Théodred…._

Niphrediel passed Hama as she pushed through the doors and headed through the hall and doors. She tried to ignore the sorrow in Hama's stare when he looked upon her before averting his eyes away afterwards. It spoke words she did not want to hear. 

Niphrediel turned into Théodred's room, surprised when she saw that his door was open. 

Éowyn and Éomer already inside that room glanced back at her from the bed, their eyes pained. 

Niphrediel frowned, looked to the bed. "Éowyn?" 

"Caeleb"— 

Niphrediel waved Éowyn's away, walking to Théodred's bed. Niphrediel brought her hand over her mouth as she felt her eyes heat up and heart rip. She could feel Éowyn's arms around her as she bit back a grimace of affectionate touch. 

Éomer's head lowered, his hand covering his eyes as he took a step back. 

Niphrediel lowered her hand and took a step forward to the bed and kneeled down beside it. "Théodred?" She whispered, her eyes moving down from his face to his neck, then chest, and stomach. She cringed and shook her head. "What have you done to yourself?" 

_"Ne-fff."_ Théodred let out after much struggle_._

Niphrediel nodded, smiling, "Yes…Hello there." She did not look back as she heard Éowyn and Éomer walk out. Niphrediel felt for the two. What she felt was nothing compared to their pain. They had known Théodred all their lives. Éomer was like a brother to him, and Éowyn like a sister. Oh, how they must be hurting. 

Niphrediel wiped Théodred's dirty brow, uncaring of the cold sweat that layered her fingers. "What have you done?" She asked softly. 

Théodred's breathing did not comfort her. It was too quick, too shallow, too painful_. "O-o-orcs," _He said quietly. 

Niphrediel buried her face in the blankets at the edge of the bed and cried. "What have you done?" 

"He should have died from the beginning, you know."— 

Niphrediel turned around, seeing Gríma standing in the doorway. "What?" She frowned. 

Gríma nodded to Théodred, "Look at his wound," He said, "He should have been killed on the field from that." 

Niphrediel lifted the covers, her eyes tainting in throbbing as they looked, then moved away. Her hands dropped the covers, regretting touching them in the first place. 

Gríma shrugged, "He waited for you, Caller," he said, tauntingly, "He deserves peace, don't you think?" 

"Get out!" Niphrediel's stare turned into a glare, and venom rose to her tongue as she turned her head to spit another comment back to the pitiful excuse of a man. Alas, when she turned, Gríma was already gone. 

The Wormtongue's intention was not true, but this time his words were. 

Niphrediel stood up and walked to the door and closed it. 

Hearing the sound of wood on wood, Niphrediel turned around and made her way to the other side of the bed and sat down. Théodred looked up at her, his eyes still retaining that warmth that was slowly beginning to die like teardrops on a candle. 

Niphrediel put her hand on Théodred's cheek, giving him what she hoped was a comforting smile. "Sleep," She whispered. 

Her reply was a drastically repeated shake of Théodred's head. Niphrediel frowned, watching him struggle as he fought his own body for the ability to speak. "N-No." He hissed. 

Niphrediel wiped her falling tears on the back of her hand. "Why?" 

Théodred closed his eyes for a moment and swallowed deeply, as if to pace himself before he struggled once more through the effort of physical speech. "Because i-i-if I do, I-I-I w-won't w-wake up," He answered, tears of inexpressible hurt forming in the corners of his eyes. 

Niphrediel lowered her head as she felt another wave of tears come. This was going to be the last conversation she was going to have with him…how could that be? How could be just… vanish? How could she cry out for him, and yet know that she is crying out to something that could not call back? It was Gilraen all over again. It was that situation all over again. It was that pain all over again. 

Niphrediel watched him struggle, knowing he was only holding on for her. Niphrediel sighed and wiped her eyes again. "We are tired," Niphrediel said, her tears overflowing as she spoke. "I think we need to sleep." Her sobs were unbearable as the words flew from her mouth. Niphrediel knew her true meaning, and so did Théodred. 

Niphrediel's hands were on his face to wipe his tears away as they fell. Théodred simply nodded, eyes reddening in sadness. 

Niphrediel nodded to Théodred, hesitating as much as she could before she moved to lie beside him. The longer she drew out her actions, the longer he would still be with her. The longer he would still keep her company and talk to her. 

Niphrediel laid her head on the same pillow as Théodred, oblivious to the filthiness of his clothing and the blood soaking into her skirt as she rested her leg over his. Resting on her stomach, Niphrediel's brow rested softly against Théodred's temple, her hand still touching his cheek as cold tears continued to fall from them. 

Both youths remained eye locked for a long time, both refusing to close their eyes and in doing so bringing things to a finish. 

_Oh Eru help me…_ Niphrediel closed her eyes, stiffening into a sob as she did. She could feel Théodred's lashes against her check as he blinked slowly several times before closing them. 

Niphrediel moved her hand down from Théodred's cheek, shifting down his arm until she found his hand. Gripping it tightly, and having it grip back, made her struggle unbearable. She almost did not know which one of them was facing the most fearful path: the path of death, or the path of loss. As much as Niphrediel needed Théodred's presence, he must have needed hers too. 

Niphrediel began to fall to sleep, even though she did not want to. "Be free," She whispered, the words foreign in the Westron tongue on her lips. Not knowing wether or not Théodred was still there to hear her, Niphrediel tightened her hold of his hand, and slept. 

The next day, it was, when Niphrediel's eyelids stirred, and opened. They were red, glassy with fresh tears in sorrow and anguish. Oh, how she did not want to have woken up. 

She moved her stare down to the peaceful face of Théodred still touching hers and she moved her hand that was still gripping his now-cold hand and ran the back of it against his cheek as she let out another sob. 

Niphrediel moved her face up and kissed Théodred's temple. Then his cheek, and then moved off the bed. 

She felt drained, like a ghost, and yet some piece of her was at peace. Théodred's pain was over. Théodred's struggle was no longer. Théodred was with his mother and his…. 

Niphrediel stopped at the door, and cried against it for a moment before moving away. 

Niphrediel was well aware at the blood and dirt stains all over her skin and dress, but she was not, at this time, at liberty to give a damn. 

* * *

It was five days of constant struggle after Théodred's last. Though Éowyn never spoke to Niphrediel about it, Niphrediel knew that Éomer's banishment was not one of treachery. Saruman was, as Éomer had tried to say, trying to take over the Rohirrim's lands. Gríma, as Éomer must have said, had made a bargain of deceit and selfishness. 

Niphrediel was dreaming again. Dreams fill of confusion and fear. 

She saw no vision. Nothing penetrated the deep black of her nightmares as if her imagination was too spent to think anything up. Instead, all Niphrediel received, were cursed voices. From the depths of her mind, the voices gave her no rest, no clue, nor any damn mercy. 

_…It is a tragic love, further it no more!…_

_…Paint me not into your portrait of tragedy!…_

_…Love me. Nothing less…_

_…Stop punishing me!!!…_

_…I hate you…_

_…Keep the words unsaid…_

_…Do not pledge yourself to me…_

_…Just one time…_

_…Stop it!…_

_…Niphrediel!_

_…Nieninquë…_

_…Caeleb…_

_…Niphredil…_

_…Stop…_

_…Neph!…_

_…Stop it!…_

_…No…_   
_...STOP IT!..._

Niphrediel bolted upright, eyes wide and rivering, and mouth open, letting out an almost childlike scream. 

Niphrediel's scream eventually fell short, however, when she reminded herself where she was and the tranquillity of Théodred's bedroom quickly calmed her, and her heavy breathing. 

Without further hesitation, though, Niphrediel jumped out of the bed and made her way in hurried steps out of the room and down the hall. 

Niphrediel knocked on Éowyn's chamber's door, before slowly opening it. 

Niphrediel could see Éowyn sitting on her already-made bed, a book in her hands. Her dress was beautiful white, unlike the beautiful dark green and brown one she wore the day before. Her hair fell in golden waves, and a belt of woven gold and silver hung from hip to hip. 

Éowyn frowned, looking up at Niphrediel. And yet, as soon as the Shieldmaiden saw her, she already knew what had happened. Niphrediel had another nightmare. There was nothing Niphrediel had to say. 

Éowyn stood and lead Niphrediel inside, "Come," She said, her gentle smile a relief as she closed the door behind Niphrediel. 

Éowyn moved Niphrediel to the bathroom chambers of her room and ran her a bath, of which she knew would do her well. The blood and dirt only Niphrediel could see was scrubbed from her body, and then Éowyn grabbed Niphrediel an underdress. 

Éowyn sniffed as she brushed Niphrediel's hair and then moved off to find her something for her to wear. Niphrediel stood in front of the window, warmed but the yellow sun, as she watched Éowyn look from dress to dress. 

"This will look nicer on you then it ever did on me," Éowyn tried to smile, pulling out the dress that she had worn the day before. Looking from her own waist, to Niphrediel's, Éowyn nodded and gave Niphrediel the dress. "It is yours," She said. 

Niphrediel would have argued if she had not been so tired. She simply nodded and put the dress on. Its sleeves were heavier then she thought they were, and yet Niphrediel still liked it. Éowyn spared no expense indeed, even when she put the belt of gold with a tinted flower in the centre around Niphrediel's waist. 

"There," Éowyn whispered as she stood beside Niphrediel in the mirror. "Look at us! We look like sisters," She smiled, and tilted her head, her eyes finding Niphrediel's eyes on the glass. "We are sisters," She swore, "And as such, we will always be there to take care of each other." 

Niphrediel may have stood a couple inches taller then Éowyn but there was no question of who was the elder between the two, indeed. Even if, by some chance, Niphrediel happened to be older in years then Éowyn, Éowyn was older beyond her years. 

Niphrediel nodded, "Very well," She said, with a small sniff. "How are you?" Niphrediel then asked, her turn to be concerned. 

Éowyn shook her head, and did not answer. "I must go….see my uncle. If you are still tired, nap away on my bed. You may find it more comforting then the one of my dead cousin." She said, sinking away and leaving Niphrediel in her room. 

Niphrediel sunk to her knees when Éowyn closed the door, and sighed_. It's all right to be sad, Niphrediel. Théodred is at peace…_ Niphrediel's eyes opened, and when they did, they were brighter. Niphrediel no longer felt drained, but relaxed and as energetic as she always was. 

Maybe Théodred would meet Niphrediel's parents in the afterlife…Maybe Gilraen and Arathorn were sipping tea with him and his own mother at this very moment… 

Niphrediel smiled at the thought, and stood up. She looked in the mirror and smiled comfortingly at her reflection before walking to Éowyn bed and laid down. 

Perhaps it had not been a good thing for Niphrediel to sleep in the bed of her deceased friend so early after his death. Théodred's presence was still in that room. His everything was still in that room; his diaries, his books, his clothes, his weapons, his toys; everything. That room made Niphrediel's mind somewhat sensitive to the history of its owner. It was too disturbing. 

Niphrediel did not shift her position at all, much too exhausted from her loss of sleep during the past five days to really notice anything save her heavy eyelids. 

Though, for a long while Niphrediel just lay in that comfortable silence, turning to the white wall in obvious concentration of a daydreamer. 

_Niphrediel, what do your dreams mean?_ Niphrediel thought, the voice in her mind somewhat concerned as well as confused_. Niphrediel, what are you turning into?_

Niphrediel frowned, her left hand coming up against the blankets so her fingers pressed against her lips_. Stop it,_ she thought._ Stop dreaming. Stop hearing. Stop listening. Stop calling. Stop._

"I want to go home," Niphrediel whispered, her voice small as it barely reached her own ears. Niphrediel wanted to go home. To her real home: Imladris. She missed Glorfindel, missed Elrond and Ivanneth, heck, even Arwen. She missed home, but more specifically, she missed her family, and, naturally, that was where Niphrediel's home was; with her family. 

Niphrediel wanted to go back to Rivendell, and have Aragorn and Gilraen there waiting for her. She wanted Sauron to die. No, more then die, she wanted him to feel the pain of every single person who had been hurt byhis forces. Time she could have been with her family had been stolen from her because Mordor's Lord could not just give up. 

Niphrediel missed more familiar company, and hearing someone other then herself calling her by her real name. She missed the hobbits, the son of Denethor, and the proud dwarf. And, of course, Niphrediel missed the Elf, a little more so then from what she expected she would, which bothered her somewhat. 

Niphrediel felt tears form in her eyes and her stomach churn. Closing her eyes tightly, and placing her spare hand over her stomach, Niphrediel tried to ignore her sudden homesickness by forcing herself to sleep.   
  


The next time Niphrediel opened her eyes; the sunlight that had once poured in from Éowyn's windows had been exchanged for the soft rays of the sunset's red and gold. 

Unlike what Niphrediel would have guessed, her nap had made her more tired. Her limps felt heavier then they did before she went to sleep, and both Niphrediel's body and mind felt nothing short of lethargic when she sat up and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. 

"Caeleb?" 

Niphrediel frowned, and looked to the door, where Raewyn stood, her face bright in both joy and excitement. 

"Raewyn?" Niphrediel said, her voice seeming just as tired and ruffled as her body, "What is it?" 

"The Wizard is here!" Raewyn declared, in a loud whisper as to muffle her exclamation. 

Niphrediel frowned. "…Wizard?"_ Saruman… _

Raewyn nodded quickly. "Aye, Gandalf. They are with the King." 

"They?" Niphrediel's brow quirked up. _Gandalf? Alive?_

Raewyn took a moment in hasty, but nonetheless deep, thought. "A human man," She frowned. "Gondorian, I would say." 

Niphrediel stiffened. _There is no way, Niphrediel. There is no chance…_

"And a dwarf, Caeleb! A dwarf!" 

Niphrediel's mouth gaped open, though her hand quickly covered it. 

"Are you well, child?" Raewyn's frown moulded in concern and slight confusion. 

Niphrediel nodded curtly, trying her best to restore her self-possession. "I am fine," She blurted. "A wizard, a man and a dwarf? Is that all"— 

"Oh!" Raewyn exclaimed, bringing her hand on her forehead as if she had just forgotten something. "They carry a deceased elf with them, love," Raewyn whispered, her voice stung. "Such a beautiful thing." 

Niphrediel frowned. "An elf?"_ Legolas? No. It cannot be."_That cannot be, Raewyn. No." 

Raewyn's brow arched, but she nodded, "Yes, child." 

"You are wrong," Niphrediel insisted, her teeth tightly set together. 

"No. I assure you, Caeleb, I am not," Raewyn said firmly, "His body lies at the feet of Théoden's throne…" 

Niphrediel's face churned, and Raewyn paused, so very confused. Why was the girl so sad? Raewyn looked over the younger female with pity and concern. "Caeleb? Caeleb, dear, are you sure you are well?" 

"What did he look like?" Raewyn identified the dark, almost livid tone in the youngling's voice. Despite the solid, rock-like stance that the young maiden was sitting in, the blue, watery, eyes displayed fragility, hurt, sorrow and desperation. 

Raewyn gave a helpless shrug of her shoulders, "Fair haired…ah….fair skinned….like any other elf would be, I imagine. He, apparently, had been attacked or something like such a very long time ago. Death came rather through exhaustion, I'd say/" 

Niphrediel shook her head._ It cannot be. It cannot be. It **cannot **be…_ "No…" She spat, before striding quickly passed Raewyn through the doors. 

Niphrediel could hear Raewyn calling out her name behind her, and the older woman's footsteps beginning to trail hers as she pushed open the doors to the armoury, and then headed to the end of the room. 

Niphrediel burst loudly through the doors, the silence of those on the other side making her entry seem louder then it really was. 

The Golden Hall was not empty, indeed it was not. A mature, though not necessarily old, man sat on Théoden's throne, with Mithrandir sitting on a stool at his side_. Gandalf? It can't be!_ Oh, but it was. Éowyn stood by two children at a table, eating broth or stew out of their bowls. 

And, there, on another table, was a sight Niphrediel had been secretly praying to see since the first day the Fellowship had left the docks of Lothlorien. 

Aragorn stiffened, his precious pipe falling from his limp grip onto the floor with a thud. Though, he did not exactly seem to notice. He waved a hand a Niphrediel, turning to Éowyn with a bright smile, "This is your Bree-native Caeleb?" He beamed. "She does not look 'sick' or 'bed-stricken' to me. Though, she does not seem much of a 'snowdrop' either," Aragorn grinned, commenting on both the translations on both names. 

Niphrediel glanced at Éowyn, catching her rather sorrowed look. Éowyn had hoped that Caeleb was not this Niphrediel girl that Aragorn had spoken of. 

"So, Caeleb is not your name, then?" She said, with a sad, somewhat uneasy, sigh. 

Niphrediel shook her head. "My name is Niphrediel, daughter of Arath"— 

"Aragorn." 

Niphrediel glanced at Aragorn, her eyes wide in sudden confusion. "Pardon?" She frowned. 

"Niphrediel, daughter of Aragorn," Aragorn said properly, his lie without fault and manner unruffled and smooth. 

_Lies? Why? _Niphrediel's lips parted, and yet she refused to contradict this fiction with her other numerous questions and inquiries in front of Éowyn and Théoden. 

"Daughter of Aragorn…" Éowyn repeated quietly, her complexion dimming as she looked from Aragorn to Niphrediel. "She is your daughter?" Her brows rose, waiting impatiently for Aragorn's reply. Niphrediel could tell easily what answer Éowyn was hoping for. 

Aragorn nodded. "Aye." Niphrediel could, also, tell that Aragorn's answer was not it. 

Éowyn's stare lowered, enigmatic and almost sad. "She walks in your nobility. In your likeliness," She mumbled, tone blank, before looking back at Niphrediel. "Did Théodred know, Cael—Niphrediel?" 

Théoden looked downwards, his stare both sad and regretful as he hid his mouth behind his raised fist. 

"Yes…. yes, he knew." Niphrediel nodded. 

Éowyn took Niphrediel's answer with a sigh in relief. "Good," She turned back to Théoden, "Uncle, Cael—Niphrediel is a friend of both Théodred and myself. Niphrediel, though his form may be somewhat differed, this is Théoden, King, and my uncle; Théodred's father." 

"_And _Gandalf, of course," Mithrandir beamed, his stare warm and so very knowing. 

Niphrediel bowed her head to both, wiping a little tear from the corner of her eye when faced with the kind smile of the old wizard she had never thought she would see again. Naturally, the child could not wait too long before jogging up to the throne, and giving the old wizard a good, long hug. 

"I'm sorry for not reaching you, Gandalf," Niphrediel whispered, having to kneel on her knees to be a correct height to give the wizard her childish embrace. She could hear Mithrandir chuckle and pat her head from its place on the material covering his beating heart. 

"I do not remember everything from that time, lass," Gandalf said slowly, gently pulling Niphrediel away and patting her cheek with the velvety surface of his palm. "But I know for certain that nothing that came from my demise was your doing," he smiled, eyes wide in earnest. 

"Now, come and sit by me, child," Gandalf said, gathering Niphrediel's hands in his, and moving her over to sit beside him on the stool. 

Niphrediel beamed, and did so with childlike satisfaction. She could barely stop herself from giggling in glee, and had the strangest feeling Legolas could tell when he coughed back a laugh from his place of silence against a pillar. 

"Where's mama?" Niphrediel looked at the little girl, her face turned up from her half-empty bowl. She frowned, wishing those present had a better answer to give the child then 'shh'. 

Niphrediel's frown did not dwindle, either, when she looked at the dwarf, to her _'father'_, and, then, to the elf. Where in the world was Boromir? Where were the hobbits? 

Once again, she interrupted the circle's conversations, and turned to Gandalf. 

"Where is Frodo?" 

* * *

The Fellowship had failed. The Fellowship had broken. Frodo and Sam were off to Mordor, Merry and Pippin back home to Hobbiton (or so Niphrediel assumed), Legolas, Aragorn and Gimli to Rohan, and Boromir… to honour in death. Niphrediel hoped Gilraen would take good care of him, too. 

Gandalf had come back. The Valar had blessed him with an even more powerful incarnation, and though there were some holes in his memory, Mithrandir's kindness was as evident as always. Saruman had poisoned the mind of Théoden via Gríma (who had been banished rightfully from Edoras or any other Rohirric dwelling) and thus the soil of the Riddermark had been tainted one too many times with the hated feet of Mordor's servants. 

But for some strange reason, Mithrandir left Rohan soon after the company had arrived, his stead a blaze of white that Niphrediel's eyes could not rightfully focus on. Thus was the speed of the white horse—or some other creature with the body of a horse and the speed of light itself. 

Niphrediel was nothing short of ecstatic to be with her Aragorn again, even though she did not exactly want to wave goodbye to one of the few remaining Fellowship members that were still around her. 

She had not realised that the feeling of being protected was something she had been without until her meeting with Aragorn again. The air smelt sweeter and her insides felt warmer, for she mentally knew that absolutely nothing could penetrate this bubble of protection and comfort that surrounded her as long as Aragorn was around. 

Despite her hopes of being somewhat independent, Niphrediel realised that she did not want to be without that sense of being safe. She still wanted to be that childlike figure. She was not ready to be an adult. She still needed a parent, and Niphrediel would be damned before she lost another one. Now that she was in the presence of her Estel, there was nothing on this world or the next that could possibly hurt her. Not one damned thing. 

* * *

_"By order of the king, the city must empty!" _Hama shouted,_ "We make for the refuge of Helm's Deep! Do not burden yourself with treasures. Take only what provisions you need."_

Niphrediel sat on a step of the Golden Hall's balcony, watching the scared expressions on the Edoras resident's faces as they listened to Hama's words and then quickly rushed into their houses to gather their supplies. 

Niphrediel gave comforting smiles to the (surprisingly) many people who looked at her sitting there. She could not have been aware that every single person of the city had known of Théodred's affection for her well before she did. How could Niphrediel have known she was thought of as the Prince Théodred's widow despite the fact that they had not actually married? 

Niphrediel dressed in the style of clothing she had adorned when she had first arrived. It felt strange to wear her leather trousers, since in Rohan all woman were expected to wear dresses in one form or another. Niphrediel would not have admitted it, but she had gotten used to wearing gowns and the like; something her younger self had promised to never do. She wore her chemise over a bodice and the like, _Alagos _strapped to her back with Herentur's back sheath and a dull black belt around her hips carrying Théodred's knife. And, of course, Niphrediel wore her old, comfy boots. 

Niphrediel caught the rather surprised and shocked expressions some people gave her to see her wearing the attire of a warrior. Of a fighter. Naturally, having seen her looking all lady-like every day since she arrived, it would have been quite a distinction of styles indeed. 

Niphrediel's thumb played with the back of her ring as she waited for Gandalf, Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas to come back from the stables. 

"Come here, Rivanon," She called, clapping her hands to get the little boy's attention. 

Rivanon turned around, dressed in a warm brown uniform of wool with bear fur about his little collar, and shoved one tiny fist in his mouth. The other hand, however, opened up wide towards Niphrediel as Rivanon ran as quickly as his little legs could take him, to his Niphrediel. 

The boy did not like to speak too much, even to Nieninquë. But, as Raewyn had said, he was fascinated with any person with dark hair, and, of course, Niphrediel was his 'favourite'. 

Niphrediel picked him up and planted him easily on her lap, making sure he was facing her so she could rain kisses on the soft little bit of skin he had under his jaw (which Niphrediel had discovered, was his weak spot). The little boy squealed out giggles and his hands moved to hold the two braids hanging behind Niphrediel's two ears. 

"Who is this little lad here?" Asked a voice, much to smooth to belong to a mortal or any other creature. Legolas set himself down beside Niphrediel, giving the babe somewhat of a sidelong look. 

"This is Rivanon," Niphrediel smiled, watching the child on her lap cling to her with his thumb in his mouth. He was afraid, and, to say the least, Legolas found that absolutely hilarious. 

"Mae Govannen," Legolas said quietly to the boy, reaching out with a hand and caressing Rivanon's cheek with the back of his hand. Watching Rivanon push himself even more so against Niphrediel's chest, Legolas pulled back and grinned, "I think he adores me." 

Niphrediel laughed, moving Rivanon on her lap to allow his legs to fall off her knees. "Yes, well, you are the first elf he has ever seen." 

"He is the first babe I have ever touched," Legolas said, with a little more gravity, though with hidden interest. 

"They are fascinating creatures, are they not?" Niphrediel chuckled, moving her arm so Legolas could get a better look, as if they were talking about a painting or some other such piece of art. 

"Indeed," Legolas grinned, giving Rivanon a little wink. "I wish I had seen you when you were a baby," He said, casting a laughing gaze at Niphrediel for a quick moment before looking back to Rivanon. 

Niphrediel's eyebrow rose, "Oh? Why?" 

"No reason, really," Legolas shrugged, smiling at Rivanon's obviously growing intrigue when he noticed Legolas's pointy ears. "Aragorn showed me a portrait of you when you were a child," Legolas looked to Rivanon and chuckled, "All we have to do is throw a couple black curls on this little creature and there you are!" 

Niphrediel laughed, setting Rivanon on the ground when he began to squirm for freedom. 

_"Come on, Rivanon!" _called Raewyn from the door of the orphanage. _"You can play with Caeleb later!"_

Niphrediel waved to Rivanon as he waddled away, and also to Raewyn who gave her smile in thanks before ushering the little boy inside. Rivanon only knew Niphrediel as Caeleb, so Niphrediel thought nothing of the fact that Raewyn had mentioned her as such. 

"Have these people taken good care of you?" Legolas asked, rubbing his hands together has if he were cold. 

Niphrediel nodded, "Aye, they have taken good care of me." 

Legolas nodded, once, before turning to regard the mountains on the horizon. "You are much darker then you were when we left you." 

Niphrediel nodded brightly, "Aye, I know!" She said, quite excited about the topic, though, as a totally different subject came to mind, Niphrediel quickly sobered. "Legolas?" She asked. 

Legolas frowned, casting away his smile for a moment. "What, Niphrediel?" He replied, somewhat curious as well as confused. 

"Why did Aragorn say he was my father?" 

Niphrediel doubted that Legolas perceived that as the question she was going to throw his way. His eyes immediately averted hers, falling to the heart at his feet. He shook his head, a gesture displaying clearly that he was not at liberty to say. Or, perhaps, he just did not want to. 

"Legolas, please," Niphrediel somewhat begged, letting out a long sigh as she spoke. 

Legolas slowly stood, brushing a feather off his shoulder as he readied himself to return inside, "Perhaps he does not think the Rohirrim will believe that an elvish curse could rid you of right to grow and mature properly." 

Legolas lied, cursing himself as he did so superbly. He watched a smile appear on the mortal child's face, and watching her nod, obviously agreeing to the motive he had chiselled gently into her head. 

Without another word, the elf turned and moved back up the steps, without a sound to accommodate his leaving. He did not want to say anything else, at least not at the moment. Perhaps when they set of for Helm's Deep. But, then again, Legolas had his own mission, and would probably stay at the front of the line to make sure the path was safe. 

Niphrediel sighed, jumping onto her feet. "Legolas! Wait for me." 

Entering once more into the cold corridors, Niphrediel went off from room to room in a quick search for Aragorn. Yes, Legolas has answered her question with an answer that was would most probably be the same one Aragorn would have given, but Niphrediel wanted to hear it from the horse's mouth; or, in this case, Aragorn's. But, at the same time, Niphrediel really did not care too much about it. She just wanted to see Aragorn, really. 

"Aragorn?" Niphrediel opened the door to Théodred's room, having a quick look inside the room for a moment. She stiffened a moment after, however, when she moved to turn back and head back out the room. 

The odds were…she might not see this room after this day. She may not live to see a lot of things after this day. Théodred had fallen, why not Niphrediel? Why was she so special? Fate was fickle, why would she choose to rid a young, brave, honourable prince of a country in need and spare little Niphrediel with a mother and father already waiting for her on the other side where not even elves could foresee, but without any merits nor titles to match or justify. 

Fate was fickle…. "No Niphrediel," Niphrediel said, bringing her hand up to the tight plate at the back of her head and taking down the butterfly clip she had still kept through her fickle adventures with fickle fate along her fickle round. Moving briefly over to the bed, and seeming to almost tower over its perfectly made simplicity, Niphrediel slowly took her butterfly and carefully placed it on the face of Théodred's pillow."Fate is stupid." 

With that, Niphrediel took one last long inhale of the room and its deceased owner, before turning and walking out, turning left at the fork of two halls—one leading right, the other right. Niphrediel tightened her fist in momentary frustration before swirling left. 

_"You have some skill with a blade."_

"Ara—?" Niphrediel brought her hand over her hand for a moment to quieten herself, as she turned into the door of the hall. She leaned up against the doorframe, shifting her arms into a warm cross as she said not one word whiles watching with both gut-wrenching discomfort and confusion, and swallowed down amusement—of which had mingled itself within her confusion in a rather painful mix. 

Niphrediel could not see Aragorn's facial expression, since he had his back to her, but she could clearly see Éowyn's. And, to say the least, it bothered her. Her eyes were wide, as if she were startled, frightened or angry—or perhaps some strange mixture of two or all three emotions—and her stare, well…. Niphrediel doubted she could look away even if she tried. _Never _had Niphrediel seen her look at anyone like that. Not _ever. _

"Women of this country learned long ago that those without words may still die upon them," Niphrediel watched Éowyn speak, cold and without the warmth that she showed towards Niphrediel so regularly in the past. Éowyn sheathed her sword, her movements swift and quick, and as cold as her intonation and manner. "I fear neither death nor pain." 

Niphrediel frowned, tightening her arms around herself. How could someone not fear death? How could someone not care so about the unknown: the one thing in life's stages that had no explanation. Niphrediel could not understand, even if she tried. 

Death was something she feared more then anything, and yet not in a way that would be expected as the norm. Niphrediel was not afraid of dying. She was afraid of her loved one's dying. 

"What _do _you fear, my lady?" Estel asked, in a tone that Niphrediel had always thought was something saved specially for her. That was _her _voice. That was the voice he would speak to her with when she was a young child no higher then his knee—Niphrediel could remember clearly. 

How dare he use it on someone who did not happen to be Arwen? Yes, Niphrediel would rather him not use it on anyone else at all, but at least with the Evenstar, his reason was justified. It did help, too, that Niphrediel actually _missed _Arwen. 

"A cage," Éowyn said, "To stay behind bars until use and old age accept them. And all chance of valour has gone beyond recall or desire." 

Niphrediel wanted to turn away; she wanted to walk away. Then, why did she not? 

_She loves him. _Niphrediel shook her head, suddenly becoming uncomfortable and taking her stare directly off Éowyn's face. The ground was a more comforting place to look at the moment for her, it seemed. _She is smitten, Niphrediel. Théodred's cousin has been caged and she does not even know it._

"You are a daughter of Kings; a Shieldmaiden of Rohan," With the sound of chaffing leather, Aragorn replaced his dagger at his belt. "I do not think that would be your fate." That was all he had to say, and within Éowyn's eyes bore tears of unreadable emotions, as Aragorn turned and headed out the door. 

For that moment or so, Niphrediel totally forgot about her discomfort and the reasons for its existence, and smiled at her pseudo-father, of whom tipped his head in response with his own smile shinning back at her before giving her a quick hug as he paced. 

Niphrediel smiled, relishing his attention and affection as she always did, and could only widen her smile even more so when kissed the top of her head before moving away. 

Then, there was silence. 

Niphrediel's eyes remained on the floor, and Éowyn simply turned away, as if to hide that she wanted to look at Niphrediel as much as Niphrediel wanted to look at her. 

Niphrediel knew what Éowyn felt, and Éowyn seemed to take the vibes of uneasiness floating off Nieninquë's skin as obvious confirmations of that. 

"I…..ah….." Niphrediel choked on her own words, her cheeks churning pale in the chill. 

"Caeleb, you do not have to say anything," Éowyn sighed, before taking a long moment to notice her mistake. "Niphrediel, I mean," She added, looking over her shoulder with an apologetic look. 

Niphrediel nodded, taking her left hand in her right in awkward brevity, "Very well…I will go to the…. ah…. stables." 

Niphrediel sighed, but as any child's attention would be with so many things going on around her at once—her thoughts could not properly linger on one thing. In less then five minutes, Niphrediel's smile was planted brightly on her face again, and she laughed and joked with Gimli in a her same jolly mood while strapping both her and Aragorn's bags onto his horse. 

"These creatures are lovely, are they not Master Gimli?" Niphrediel said clearly over her shoulder, pulling the last strap around her bag nice and tight. 

"Creatures?" Gimli repeated, with 'hmph' in his tone conveying his obvious distaste of the mentioned animals. "They are beasts of burden, Lassy," Gimli lectured, with a nod of his head. 

The horns were beginning to blow from outside the stables. Niphrediel and Gimli could hear them clearly from inside. Niphrediel sighed, blowing a loose wisp of her hair out of her eyes before grabbing the reigns of the horse—of which she had yet to learn the name to. 

"Come on, Gimli!" She yelled, beginning to jog towards the stairs of the Golden Hall, where Aragorn, Legolas, Éowyn and King Théoden (among others) had gathered. Their horses and other such things were either in their hands, of on the flanks of their variously coloured horses. 

_...The defences have to hold..._

Niphrediel stopped for a moment and shook her head, banging her hand against the side of her ear as if there was water inside them that she was trying to force out. _These stupid voices, _Niphrediel cursed, growing annoyed as she thought more on the topic, _Galadriel spoke of visions, she said **nothing **about voices! _Niphrediel kicked the hearth with her boot as she began to walk again. 

Niphrediel waved to Éowyn as she passed her, and received a tip Éowyn's head in return. Niphrediel could see Théodred and his guards beside him beginning to move away from Aragorn who waited for Niphrediel, and Legolas who was patting the neck of the horse that both he and Aragorn shared, so she had no worries about Éowyn's motives for moving away. 

_"Citizens of Edoras, prepare to depart!" _Niphrediel turned her head, seeing Hama far down the hill that Edoras was set upon, seeming less then a centimetre tall from his distance away. 

"Onto the horse, Niphrediel," Aragorn said finally, when Niphrediel reached him, taking the reigns off her hands and turning the creature around in the correct direction. "Niphrediel, are you listening?" He frowned, noticing that Niphrediel was distracted by his instructions from watching Legolas help Gimli onto the saddle of the other horse. 

"Niphrediel!" 

"Hmm?" Niphrediel turned to Aragorn, cursing her absent expression when finally noticing Estel's more stern one. "Oh!" Niphrediel looked at the horse and quickly grabbed onto the sides of the saddle before jumping onto it. 

And then, with little more adieu, the people of Edoras, and the various outsiders, began to move off. 

Aragorn rode in front of Niphrediel, after a small argument they had about who was 'worthy' enough to have the responsibility of controlling the direction the horse would tread in. Naturally, of course, Aragorn just had to shoot Niphrediel a certain look to let her know that she had little luck of prevailing. 

But it was not as if Niphrediel was serious. She had just forgotten what it was like to argue—least of all with her Aragorn. They were both half-smiling, half-serious during the discussion anyway, both enjoying the rather amusing exchange in their own strange ways. 

In the end, Gimli had refused to get on the horse. 'No beast of burden shall be my transportation today, elf. My legs will carry me just fine for now', he had said. Niphrediel and Aragorn laughed amongst themselves. 'You say that now,' replied Legolas, swinging a leg over the saddle, 'Just wait til those strong legs of yours begin to tire'. 

Niphrediel smiled, shifting the position of her arms so that she no longer held onto the tops of Aragorn's shoulders. She rested her head on the back of his left one, however, letting out a yawn. Oh, how she relished the paternal warmth that seeped from her brother, even if he did not have to give her a reaction to show that her simple signs of daughterly adoration was noticed and treasured (of which they undoubtedly were). 

Aragorn had missed his child, his sister: his _daughter, _or at least so in the eyes of these people. Daughter…. somehow Estel found that title more suiting for him to use as reference for this girl's relationship with him. Sister? Maybe, but that just seemed wrong, even if they were genetically so. Yet none of those reasons were even close to the motive that drove him to tell Théoden and his people that Niphrediel was his child; his blood; his firstborn; his heiress and descendant. No, his reason for that was something much more darker… 

Niphrediel's arms were loose around Estel's stomach, limp as though she did not have the energy to sit upright instead of leaning most of her body weight on the horse and Aragorn—both of whom did not seem to notice. With her head laid in a small forest of Aragorn's hair at the side of his neck that curved into his shoulder—she had a perfect view of Gimli and Legolas's horse, of whom travelled a mere metre or so from Aragorn's left. 

The horse was pretty, or at least Niphrediel thought so. She only looked at it for a moment, however, until she noticed that Legolas was pulling faces at her from on top of his saddle. 

Legolas glared at her, then poked out his tongue like a fool and wagged his eyes from left to right. _The buffoon, _Niphrediel thought, chuckling against Aragorn's tunic before crossing her eyes in a sarcastic reply to Legolas's attempts to make her laugh, smile, or whatever goal it was that he had to start doing something so random. 

_"Ma cenilye Anar acala…." _Niphrediel shifted her chin onto Aragorn's shoulder, her attention spanning as she could hear his voice begin to sing—quietly, yes, but still too melodious for him to have usually used in common speaking. 

Niphrediel knew the words—how could she not? The favoured poem was special. Aragorn had read it aloud to her in Lothlorien, and many times before that. Though, that one day in Lorien was the memory that first came to mind, and after clearing her throat to an extent she was content with, Niphrediel began to quietly accompany Aragorn in his peaceful tune, her softer, albeit quiet, voice harmonizing with his lower pitch. 

_"Ma hlarilye filit alire,_

_Íre tuile tule ara le?_

_Anar lauca, haire filit-ómar,_

_Laica salque arwa venya holmeo_

_Fanyar luini hellesse, en!_

_Vanye, vanye lóti linquilie_

_Ma cenilye alda atyulta_

_Ma hlarilye súre asúya_

_Íre i vinya lúme sinome sí?_

_Heldasse aldaron vanwa, súre mi olwar_

_Queni mótar titte latinassen_

_Helca ar lauca vilya, rossi, rossi_

_Caline auri, elene lómi tulir_

_Ma cenilye hína atyale_

_Ma hlarilye hína alala_

_Ar ma amorta órelya?_

_Híni mallessen, vendi, seldor_

_Celvar, olvar, atani nostar, ela!_

_Linte rámar, vanye lossi, calime hendi_

_Vanima, vanima, vanima, vanima!"_

Aragorn smiled, and patted the side of Niphrediel's cheek with his hand he blindly moved up to his shoulder. 

Even with the joyous affection she was receiving, Niphrediel could feel the sickening rocking of the horse as it took each step, and she could hear the sounds of crying children in the distance who were less accepting of leaving their homes for whatever cause, and she knew that this was going to be a long journey indeed. That did not comfort her one bit, albeit spending time with Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas did make the thought less daunting for just long enough to make Niphrediel smile and remain happy of manner. 

She became somewhat restless after the third hour of travelling and so, but entertained herself while jumping from the back of Aragorn's horse, onto Legolas's one, and so on and so forth. 

"Aragorn, watch me!" Niphrediel said to Aragorn, who had somewhere along the way, decided the grass in front of him was more interesting then his overactive relative. 

Aragorn moved around, the frown on his forehead 

"How loyal," Gimli jested with a laugh from his minimal height on the ground, looking up with eyes shaded by the brim of his helmet. 

"No, no, Gimli," Aragorn sighed, the hint of sarcasm in his voice being the only thing that marked his mockery of seriousness. "Niphrediel loves her Legolas," he said with woe. 

"Of course she does!" Legolas cheered, sharing a laugh with the three males, all of whom looking at Niphrediel with their laughing eyes. 

Niphrediel smiled and poked her tongue out at Aragorn; unable to laugh when she began to think her less mature age prevented her from understanding the proper humour of the rather funny passing comment. She leaned against the elf and yawned, before giving him a mock-cuddle when Gimli batted his eyelashes at her—of which made the three's laughter set off once more. 

Théoden's eyebrow arched upwards at the group of younger-looking individuals, his smile alit in amusement. Glancing to Gambling upon his horse beside him, Théoden's somewhat jovial expression sent both men into their own chuckles at Aragorn and his group's expense. 

"Lo! the Lassy falls to sleep!" Gimli pointed his finger, grinning. 

Niphrediel's head shot up, as did her eyelids. "No, no she doesn't," she blurted out, her somewhat dazed expression contradicting her statement. 

"Are we that boring, Aragorn?" Legolas smirked sarcastically, sending his good-humoured and rather cynical stare Estel's way. 

"No, my friend," Aragorn replied, his tone and expression matching that of his elven colleague. "She is being rude," He said with an earnest nod of his head, sending Niphrediel a mocking glare, which made her laugh against Legolas's tunic when she noticed. 

Even as he spoke, Legolas tightened his hands on the reigns, signalling exactly what he was going to do wether or not Niphrediel noticed. 

Indeed, Niphrediel did not notice these movements, but she seemed rather awake now, at least; sitting up with eyes open in suspicious alert. 

"I think she should be punished," Legolas concluded casually, "Do you not agree, Aragorn?" 

Aragorn nodded, gesturing to the left where no one travelled about on top of their horses and assorted wagons over the somewhat endless field they were passing across. "I agree entirely, Legolas." 

"Estel!" Niphrediel giggled, before letting out something resembling a shriek as Legolas started his horse a full sprint, heading to the side of the somewhat filed-up Edoras citizens. 

Niphrediel nearly fell back, the instant the horse took off with one harsh lunge forward, if not for her grabbing onto Legolas again just in time. If she had not been too shocked in the moment, she would almost be angry at Legolas for nearly sending her off the back of his horse as some silly joke. But, thankfully, Niphrediel was much too shocked at that moment to really care, so the laughter that was pouring from the elf's mouth went completely unnoticed. 

Even then, though, Niphrediel's hold did not seem to be quite strong enough. To say the least, she was not used to being on the back of someone else whilst riding a horse. But, even if she were, that would not have made the grip the fingers of her left hand had around her left wrist any more or less stable. 

Legolas must have noticed the small screech Niphrediel unconsciously made when she felt her fingers begin to slip, because just as they did, his right hand shot off from the reigns and grabbed Niphrediel's wrist. 

Seeming able to do two things at once without so much as one little mistake, Legolas quickly hooked Niphrediel's arms together to the point that she was almost hugging him at the same time, before letting his hand move back onto the leather reigns once more. 

Niphrediel let out a long 'phew', taking a couple deep breaths to get her heart beating in a regular rhythm. She absently wondered if the elf could breath, seeing as she made sure that her hold was has tight as she could possibly make it. 

It was as if someone had glued Niphrediel's front to Legolas's back—and that was fine with Niphrediel. In fact, it was absolutely brilliant. Good hold; no falling. 

They rode along the sides of the Rohirric people, Niphrediel's head having to rise a little so she could clearly see the land in front of them. 

Niphrediel was somewhat thankful that Legolas's hair kept to his other side. Her own, more thicker, locks were bad enough; flapping and flying against her back each time the horse rose into the air before connecting with the solid ground. 

The wind pulsed against her face; its' dance against her skin making her smile brighten all the more. 

Wether it was the horse or Legolas of whom eventually made the decision to turn back, the statement was not unnoticeable. With a flick of the reigns, the horse propped up on his hind legs, attacking the air. Niphrediel only had time to gasp before making the air inside Legolas's lungs dissolve by holding onto him so tightly to prevent her from falling back. 

The horse (curse him) did eventually return both hooves to the hearth eventually, to Niphrediel's prayers. Legolas let out a loud laugh, as did some Edoras farmers who were among others who were watching out of boredom. Niphrediel nearly slapped him across the ears, until he turned the horse around and made him run back to where Aragorn, Théoden, Éowyn and Gimli (among others) continued to walk and/or ride whilst watching. 

"The girl has been punished!" Legolas declared, returning his horse to its comfortable spot beside Aragorn's'. 

"Yes, I am sure she has, Elf," Gimli sniggered smartly at the elf, before looking warmly to Niphrediel behind him. "But the shock of your punishment, I believe, can only keep her conscious a little while longer." 

Was Niphrediel's somewhat lax temperament so very evident today? It must have been, if her heavy eyelids were noticed clearly by all who so much as glanced at them. 

Legolas threw an absent glance over his shoulder at her, shrugging casually. "Well, she has been punished, so she may rest now," he said, looking at Aragorn who purposely drew closer. 

"Come on, Neph," Aragorn bade quietly, holding out his arms as Niphrediel slowly moved from the back of Legolas's saddle onto the front of Aragorn's, her legs hanging off the left side instead of being parted, for the moment. 

"Lets get this off you now," Aragorn mumbled under his breath, taking off the sword and straps she had on her back and shoving them through the same straps that held his bag onto the horse. "There we have it," he said finally, signalling that everything was fine now. 

Niphrediel could see Éowyn in the corner of her eye as she let her body loosen and completely rest itself against Aragorn's chest, her position allowing her head a reasonably comfortable resting place at his shoulder while his arms carefully kept her still in between them. Her arms, just like her body, were limp, her hands joined at the back of Aragorn's saddle. 

Éowyn looked lovely, as always, but both sad and weary; like a flower without sun. 

It was strange to hold someone again, let alone Niphrediel. Aragorn had almost forgotten the feeling of holding something that his love for was engulfing in an almost maternal way, of which sometimes seemed to him more peaceful and important then the affection spawned from romantic emotions. 

After all, what kind of a parent chooses a lover over their child? Aragorn had made sure that choice would never have to be presented before him. Arwen? She loved Niphrediel; she always had, though the distance Arwen gave her concealed it. There was no other child that Rivendell had served as a home for, and the Evenstar was nothing less then fascinated by the mannerisms of the innocent, tiny creature on those rare times that she had visited Imladris on the days of Niphrediel's infancy. The elven lady would never make Aragorn choose. Niphrediel had to be convinced of that fact, though. 

"Go to sleep, Niphrediel," Aragorn mumbled, glancing at Legolas on his own horse who travelled just at his left flank. "Helm's Deep will come soon enough." 

"And all that comes with it," Legolas added, before getting down from his horse, leaving Gimli with the reigns, to run up ahead. 

  


* * *

**Quick word: **Hmmm…. does Aragorn know something Neph doesn't? ;) R&R, ya'know how it is you wonderful people. Oh, and I think it shows I've been watching 'Brave Heart' lately. Mel and that chick riding on the horse always made me think 'awwwww'. Another strange quirk of my female anatomy, I'm sure. I hope the chapter didn't suck too bad, my brain's been sappy lately. Expect some Niphrediel/Legolas tension and such in the next chapter, also some Theodred recaps (don't worry, Neph won't forget him). The chapter might become rather big, but I think I'll be able to get through it 


	12. Chapter eleven: At the Gates of Ruin

**Chapter eleven: At the Gates of Ruin**

*****

*****

*****

"Why do you look at me like that?" Niphrediel asked, her head turned to the side to regard the person sitting a few yards beside her, as she lay on a bed of soft, green grass. 

_Théodred had given a shrug of his shoulders, looking down at the strand of wheat he rubbed between the thumb and index finger of his left hand. "I know not," he said, blankly, casually. _

_"Well…I don't know why you do," she said, shifting her back against the grass underneath and looking up to the branches of the tree they were lounging under._

_"Its your eyes, I think," Théodred thought aloud, nodding as he gave his words more consideration._

_"Huh?" Niphrediel looked at him, somewhat confused. "They are blue. So are yours," she grinned. "There is nothing fascinating about that. Perhaps if they were brown! Or…or green! Blue is common, especially here," Niphrediel nodded towards Edoras, about a hundred metres north to where they rested._

_Théodred shook his head, looking at Niphrediel with a rather baffled look. "Your eyes are grey," he said. "They are grey."_

_Niphrediel shook her head. "No they aren't," She said loudly, her tone as bright as ever, "They are blue."_

_"I am telling you, Caeleb," Théodred let out a short laugh, his tone and manner both honest and more serious then it needed to be. "They are grey."_

_Niphrediel shook her head, before lifting herself up onto her knees, shaking her head at him with obvious determination to prove her point. "Come here," she said, waving her hands to him in an obvious gesture for him to follow her instruction. _

_"Pardon?" Théodred mumbled as soon as the words had left Niphrediel's mouth, his baffled expression deepening on his face. _

_Niphrediel was definitely oblivious to the thoughts that must have been running through the young Marshal's head. She just groaned at Théodred's innocent stalling, and continued to wave him over. "Hurry up," she said._

_Théodred looked down at himself before getting up onto his knees, as Niphrediel had, before slowly moving himself inch-by-inch forward. When he was about thirty centimetres (or at least what he had assumed was thirty centimetres), he stopped. He gestured towards himself and shrugged again, "Now what?"_

_"Look closely," Niphrediel grinned, pointed to her eyes for a brief moment just long enough to give Théodred the general idea, even though Niphrediel was well-aware Théodred was anything but a little short on intelligence._

_"Very well," Théodred mumbled, before his eyes began to scan Niphrediel's. Though, of course, the Dunedain girl was unaware about how his eyes lingered so long between each blink and she did not recognise the hidden warmth of which he looked upon her with. _

_"Well?" Niphrediel said, after a while when she noticed that Théodred had not said anything, her brows high in innocent curiosity._

_Théodred shook his head, "They are still grey!"_

_Niphrediel groaned and fell onto her back from her knees. "They are blue!"_

_Théodred laughed heartedly, sitting back down, his eyes dancing in the sunlight. "They are grey, foolish girl," he said in fake pomposity that had Niphrediel almost rolling along the grass in laughter. "A very blue-grey, yes, but they are as grey as them clouds before a storm!" Théodred concluded, his manner and tone more serious and honest with that last sentence as he tipped his head to the sky._

_"Whatever," Niphrediel mumbled, sarcasm pouring from her mouth as it moved into an almost sly grin._

_Théodred shook his head, his smile bright even though the residue of sadness remained eternal in the depths of his eyes; chiselled in by pain that somehow contaminated even the most joyous of occasions. _

_Théodred suddenly sobered, however, and his face lost its burst of jovial laughter. His smile was no longer, replaced by an expression that was sad and quite unreadable. "Will you…ah…" Théodred shook his head, unable to get the words out._

_Niphrediel frowned, quirking an eyebrow in his direction as she rolled onto her stomach, her brown skirt twisting underneath her as she did so. "What is it?" she pressed. "Will you…?"_

_"Will you be here always?" Théodred finally let his question out, pasting on his strong, yet blank, regal expression he used only in meetings when his father was healthy. Any front was a good one for now; the more emotionless the better. "In Edoras, I mean… Not under the tree."_

_Niphrediel's smile slowly dwindled, and after a long moment or two of dreading to answer, she shook her head. "No," she said._

_Théodred had obviously anticipated that answer, for though his reaction was a sad one—it was without any variants of surprise. "Oh…" he said, unable to think of anything intelligent or, at the very least, witty, to say._

_"But I promise to visit all the time," Niphrediel swore, eyes wide in earnest as if that way Théodred could see more clearly that she was extremely serious. "And…maybe I will be able to write letters and everything." _

_Théodred nodded, and though the tips of his lips did hint with the signs of a small smile, his sadness remained. "Well, you will always have a home here, you know," he said, averting her stare as if it could petrify his own. He was the Prince of this realm; the son of the King—he could make her a fine home in Edoras!_

_Suddenly, though, his face brightened in a smile; like sunlight after a storm. "You will always have my bed here for you to sleep in," he jested, before both he and Niphrediel joined together in laughter. "And, of course," he shrugged. "I will always be here."_

_Niphrediel's laughter slowly dwindled into a smile, and even as she let her mind ponder, she kept that smile a bright-looking one. "I swear on my mother's grave to show you my home one day," she said quietly, as if she were talking to herself._

_"Oh?" Théodred's eyes suddenly blazed in hidden excitement. "Bree?" Hopefully, his excitement was not too concerned about the destination, for Niphrediel had no intention of taking Théodred to **Bree**. That place had no real significance to the real her. _

_"No, no," Nieninquë shook her head, her hair latching onto loose strands of grass on her soft mattress of earth below her head. "Rivendell. Imladris."_

_"Where the elves live?" Théodred's eyes brightened even more, though Niphrediel could sense both his excited and his fear. Elves were thought of with sceptical opinion in Rohan. What was yet to be understood was yet to be accepted in the Eorling's realm._

_Niphrediel nodded, "Well…one of the places they live, yes."_

_"I really wish you would never have to leave, you know," Théodred mumbled; drawing his eyes to ground again as if he were ashamed of his words, rather then just shy of them._

_Niphrediel smiled at the Prince, even though he probably could not see from where he had directed his attention: to the grass before him. "Well, you will always be here for me to visit, no?"_

_"Of course," Théodred smiled, his eyes suddenly boasting with both intensity and confidence as it rose to grab hold of Niphrediel's while the rest of him remained untouched by the change. "I will always be here. Always!"_

_"Good. Loss is horrible," Niphrediel said, with some wryness._

_"Loss builds strength!" Théodred grinned._   


_(…I won't wake up…)_

(…_Death can only do so much…)_

Niphrediel's eyes fluttered open. Even when she was still asleep she could feel herself tearing up. And there she was, lying on a blanket near a dim fire with tears streaming down her cheeks. She slowly pushed herself up, letting herself sit for a moment. 

_Be free…_ Niphrediel's uneven breathing slapped against the back of her hand when she placed it over her mouth to muffle the sounds they made. Had Niphrediel made the wrong choice? If she had just asked, pleaded, or instructed Théodred to just… _hold on, _could he have made it? Had Niphrediel made a mistake? Had she let Théodred die? 

Niphrediel coughed into her hand, suddenly feeling cold and somewhat unclean. She looked down at her body, her stupid body, of which was too developed for the mind and childlike spirit that possessed it. She wanted the body of a child again; a young child, of which displayed innocence both in mind, manner and physical description. 

This world was unforgiving and greedy. It took away from her everything she possessed that meant or _could_ mean a great deal. The world was ugly and cruel, and Niphrediel wanted anything but to be let out into it; like a bird without a cage it positively adored. 

Théodred would have taken care of her… He would have fought for her. He would have died for her... He would have loved her, though Niphrediel had known he already did. It was wrong. Eru disliked Niphrediel… Did he not realise the responsibility of so much was something she could not handle? 

Even Eru was unmerciful. Niphrediel wanted to hide under a rock and stay there forever; where no one could touch her. She wanted the stability she imagined she could have had growing up with both parents; both young; both alive; both unkempt. 

_Every child has a parent, no? In some form or another… _Niphrediel frowned. Did she want to live in a world where she was sheltered from anything that could do her harm? Did she want to keep herself in one room of the glorious, and horrific, castle that was Life, without experiencing and learning from the mistakes that could eventually build strength? 

"No," Niphrediel whispered against her hands, before bringing her knees up for her arms to hold tightly against her. She buried her head against her knees, letting the emotional effects of her memories of the dead pulse through her body and mind like one, huge, wave. 

She did not want to change. She wanted Théodred back. She wanted Gilraen back. And, if Niphrediel could have another wish to complete a perfect three, she wanted Arathorn as well. Niphrediel wanted justice. 

Niphrediel sniffed, only relieved that though she was crying like her body was bleeding tears; there were no loud sobbing or weeping to accompany her memory backlash. 

She steadily felt an arm come around her, and it would have made her jolt if she had not heard the familiar sounds of light, smooth, effortless breathing. Only an elf or some sort of magical being could breathe like that; listening to Glorfindel over the years had made Niphrediel familiar with the sound. 

"Sleep," Legolas said, against her somewhat untidy hair lying over the top of her head. "Tomorrow is another day." 

Niphrediel let herself be moved back onto her blanket, and felt warmth rush back onto her bare arms when Legolas brought his cloak up over her, just beneath her chin. "Legolas?" 

"What is it?" He frowned, brushing strands of grass off his hands. 

Niphrediel sniffed, before flopping her arms over top of her blankets, her eyes shimmering with her unconscious tears both intensely serious and blank. "Am I cursed?" 

Legolas's brow arced upwards, and he almost let out a laugh if not for the fact that there were others sleeping nearby. Gimli's echoing snores confirmed that. "Of course you are not. Why do you think that?" 

Niphrediel shrugged. "No reason," she said, before closing her eyes and turning around. 

Legolas looked at Niphrediel with a rather unreadable expression before he moved back onto his feet and turned around to walk away. 

"Legolas?" 

"Yes?" Legolas turned back on his heels. 

"You will not leave us, right?." 

Legolas paused for a moment, unable to deny that this question was an unusual one. 

"Right?" 

Legolas took a quick breath, before he parted his lips to reply. "I will try," he whispered back, before moving on; no sound to mark his departure save Niphrediel's unconscious knowing that he was no longer there. 

Niphrediel's thoughts continued to stay on her deceased love ones, til she finally gave into the need to sleep. Something she dreaded, and so prayed idly for Irmo to give her nothing to dream about. No visions. No Eru-forsaken voices; just sleep; just the reassuring black that could not harm nor scare her. 

For once, Niphrediel got what she hoped for.   


* * *

"Caeleb!" 

Niphrediel's eyelids snapped upwards, the light of the morning light hitting her like a harsh punch to her raw pupils. Niphrediel immediately closed her eyes again when faced with the bright sun, turning her head into the shelter of Aragorn's back, pressing her face into his tunic as she overcame the sudden wack. 

After a moment or so, Niphrediel turned her head away again, her spare hand that was not hooked around Aragorn's stomach rubbing her drawn eyelids, messaging the orbs underneath. 

With eyes remaining half-open, and not to mention rather red, Niphrediel send an absent wave in Rivanon and Raewyn's direction, quite far behind. 

"The daughter of Aragorn rouses from slumber to the cries of a demanding babe," mumbled the King Théoden, as he rode to Aragorn's side; not having to so much as glance in her direction for it to be obvious he was directing his words to her. "An innocent torture, no?" the King smiled, as if to himself, somehow noticing Niphrediel's unspoken curses about her being woken. 

"Of course," Aragorn answered for Niphrediel, patting her hand that gripped a little handful of his dark-coloured tunic at his front with one worn-skinned hand of his own. 

Niphrediel felt sick. Lethargic, ill, weak… exactly what she had been on and off for the passed month or so, as if she had been robbed of her energy and was left only with it's frail residue. And yet, as Niphrediel absently looked back, she absolutely had to say that she was never sick. She could not remember one account in time that she had ever been ill. 

"A run with the elf will revitalise her!" Gimli piped up immediately, with a pointed hand to the sky as if he had just answered the unanswerable question. He did not want to walk; he wanted to stay with the (foul) horse, walking at a pace that he deemed correct. He did not want to stroll alongside the elf with long legs like a spider. He prided himself on this sudden decision of laziness, though the overly energetic creature that was Legolas was making this discission less enjoyable. 

Niphrediel grimaced at the thought, "No"— 

Legolas interrupted her quickly, "Come on, then!" 

With a groan, Niphrediel was pulled off the horse. Regardless of how gently Legolas grasped her, Niphrediel's skin ached at any such touch. 

She was pulled by hand, having to force herself to wake up at the same time as willing her legs to run instead of collapse. Being tugged along, past slower-moving citizens, made Niphrediel somewhat reminded of Moria. Niphrediel would have shuddered. 

Niphrediel's body began to warm quickly, and before she began to struggle to breath, Legolas let go of her hand and treaded to a stop. Niphrediel was quite surprised to discover they were at the front, at least a good twenty feet from the nearest group of Edoras citizens. 

"I am scouting," informed Legolas, striding off to Niphrediel's left, his eyes, unnaturally keen—or at least to a mortal's eyes, directing themselves into the rocky hills in the distance. 

Niphrediel yawned, the distinct beginnings of a curious frown marking the smooth skin of her forehead. "For what?" Niphrediel jogged a few steps forward to walk beside him, "Rabbits?" 

"Oh, of course," Legolas grinned, his white teeth bright under the sun. "Evil, menacing rabbits that steal biscuits from my pockets when I sleep." 

Niphrediel laughed, shaking her head at Legolas's expense. "Hilarious," she remarked, dryly; mock-seriousness played to perfection save the smile on her mouth. 

"Oh, quiet," Legolas retorted in response, sending Niphrediel a wry, arced eyebrow. However, he then turned his head, as if he were going to look over his shoulder except his stare did not stay from Niphrediel's face even though it seemed his attention did. 

"Why Niphrediel," Legolas began grandly, though quietly, as if someone may hear him. "You are being spoken of." 

"I am?" Niphrediel grinned, her eyebrow quirking upwards in both curiosity and wryness; her instinct unable to determine wether or not Legolas spoke in jest. "By whom?" 

"None other then Arathorn's son and Théoden's niece," Legolas said with a grin, his stare trailing onto the grass before him. 

His reply made Niphrediel all the more curious—and suspicious. "What are they saying about me?" she asked, not sure wether to be disturbed or overjoyed, moving closer beside the elf as if it were all a great secret. 

Legolas placed a hand about his ear, wryly feigning effort to listen. "Oh, they are just describing what a horrible little maid you are, and are planning a way that we can abandon you at the nearest river." 

Naturally, Niphrediel did not find this offensive. Perhaps if it had not come from him, Niphrediel would have thought a little more about it before letting the joke slide. She was becoming closely familiar with him now. Niphrediel was not certain wether or not that was a good thing, either. 

Of course, it had nothing to do with the fact that Legolas was not satisfactory for a friend. Niphrediel just did not want to have many elvish ones that were too close to her. In the end, she would live to see them leave, or they would live to watch her die. Why leave them forlorn or remain to watch them do the same to her? In that respect, Glorfindel was one of her greatest mistakes. That elf would break her heart one day. 

"I jest, Niphrediel," Legolas chuckled, just in case Nieninquë was not sure. He was considerate, at least. "They are just talking about how lovely you are; nothing too harsh, I am sure. The Lady Éowyn must have taken a liking to you." 

"As she did Aragorn," Niphrediel mumbled unconsciously under her breath; cursing herself immediately after the last syllable left her tongue. 

Instead of noticing Niphrediel's mistake, Legolas regarded her words with thoughtful serenity. "Aye," he said, after a pensive moment, unable to disagree, an arm casually coming around Niphrediel's back in an involuntary gesture of comfort. "She has taken a liking to your keeper." 

Niphrediel sighed, though she received comfort from the casual tone that Legolas spoke in, and the brief embrace of his arm. It was brief, though, as most of Legolas's gestures were, Niphrediel noted, so it made the simple hug she received a little more special. His tone made such facts less severe, for Legolas, obviously, was not worried about any of them. 

"Legolas?" 

"Yes, Niphrediel?" 

Niphrediel coughed, clearing her throat before beginning. "Do you know the identity of the deceased elf you brought with you to Edoras?" 

Legolas seemed relatively surprised Niphrediel knew about it, though he did not give too much hesitation afterwards. "Herentur, an archer of Lorien, Niphrediel," he replied, his brows rising high for a moment. "Do you remember him?" 

Niphrediel lowered her stare to the grass as her boots slowly treaded upon it. "No, of course not." Why burden his thoughts with the facts of how she came upon Rohan when he could be carefree about that subject for a short time? 

Herentur was gone, anyway. Niphrediel had left his buried carcass in Edoras, or so she assumed. Why else would they have brought a dead body to the Rohirric city if not to find it a proper burial ground? 

"Tired?" Niphrediel asked. 

Legolas shot her a look, his grin shifting into a laughing smile. "I am exhausted." 

Niphrediel rolled her eyes, moving a little closer to his side as she pointed her finger to something in the near distance. "You see that rock?" She indicated a rather lonely looking rock some two hundred feet in the distance of the field. 

Legolas nodded. "Aye, I _do_ see the rock!" 

"Race me to it," Niphrediel challenged, somewhat forgetful of her recent battle with fatigue. 

Legolas laughed, shaking his head in both amusement and incredulity. "Not today, little Niphrediel," he grinned, before spotting Háma on his horse riding towards the rocky hills. _"Do you see anything, Háma?" _Legolas yelled. 

_"Nothing so far," _came Hama's reply, _"Come closer, Lord Elf, your eyes would be a virtue!"_

Legolas simply nodded, even though he knew the Rohirric man was much too far away to notice. He sighed, eyes drawn downwards, his lingering breath the only hint to his dwindling spirit that he hid so well. "Oh well," he said, taking his bow off his back. "I will be back soon." 

With that, he began to run, leaving Niphrediel walking behind him. 

Niphrediel did not mind; content enough to walk by herself. Though, of course, she would not mind someone to talk to as she walked, but it did not matter too much. 

But then, that very moment was exactly when something went wrong. Niphrediel did not necessarily see what happened, but she could here the scream. 

"Háma!" Niphrediel shouted, beginning to sprint towards where the both the screaming and Legolas had gone and come from. Her hand fastened on the hilt of Alagos at her back, and Niphrediel absently thanked her lucky stars that she had been wearing it. She looked over her shoulder and could see Aragorn hurrying over. 

_"A scout!" _Niphrediel heard Legolas exclaim, as he quickly inspected the remains of what Niphrediel thought to be a foul creature cross bred between a gigantic dog and some sort of wolf beast. She skidded to a stop, both because she did not want to go closer, and the smell that came from the animal prevented her from doing so. 

"What are they?" Niphrediel shouted, eyes bright in panic. 

Legolas looked past Niphrediel, nodding to Aragorn as he rushed back to Théoden and the people, telling them to head another direction. "Go," he ordered, nudging Niphrediel to the side and seeming to ignore her previous question in the heat of the moment. But, for that, Niphrediel could not blame him. 

He ran to the edge of the crooked hearth; of which gave him enough height to see the plains beyond. As if he had pushed some sort of latch within, he felt his pupils dilate, and could only watch and wait as he strung his bow. 

"Niphrediel, run," he hissed, not having to look away to know that she was still standing in the exact place. He fired his first arrow. 

"Be careful, damn you," Niphrediel mumbled, before turning and sprinting down the hill as fast as her legs could possibly take her; having to dodge the horses of the guards that were rushing the opposite direction to face the beasts and their orc riders upon them. 

She looked over her shoulder once, and saw Aragorn look over his own one in unison with her, as if to just make sure she had left. It was less then a second that her eyes grazed over his, but it was just enough time and recognition to put one worry out of Aragorn's mind; though, of course, he had much more important ones to attend to. 

Niphrediel slowed her pace when she began to pass the elderly woman at the back of the line, who she gathered a couple bags from to carry in their stead, and only began to walk when she caught up with Éowyn. 

There, Niphrediel walked, and bent over to catch her breath, whipping the sweat off her brow with the back of her arm.   


* * *

"I am sure they will arrive any time now, Niphrediel." 

Niphrediel nodded, holding Rivanon in an unusually tight hold, rocking him from side to side to save herself from fidgeting. Thankfully, he actually liked it. 

"What could be taking so long, Raewyn?" 

"It could be anything, Niphrediel," Raewyn shrugged, brushing the hair of Blythe; one of the only female children of her orphanage. 

They had arrived at Helms Deep at least an hour passed, or something roundabouts. Niphrediel was not too sure; time was something she was not worrying too much about at the time. 

The fortress was barely large enough to home all the people that had gathered inside it. All old and young, child and adult, hideously crowded it. Éowyn was outside the hall planted at the top of the fortress, making sure her people were all as well as they could be. Niphrediel stayed with Raewyn and the children—both of Raewyn's orphanage and many others given to Raewyn to take care of while their mothers helped with other things. 

"Why do we have yellow hair, Raewyn?" asked Blythe, seeming awfully confused as she continually looked from Niphrediel's hair, to Rivanon's. 

"Because that is the way Eru wished you to be," replied Raewyn, blankly, no longer a stranger to answering and hearing the question. 

"I want black hair," Blythe whined, before letting out a high-pitched squeal when Raewyn 'accidentally' found a knot amongst her wavy tresses. 

Niphrediel would have smiled, if she were not so very worried. A pool in her gut was boiling up, and her tongue had every chance to swell from the harsh gnaws it was receiving from Niphrediel's teeth. 

"What were those beasts, Raewyn?" 

Raewyn shrugged once more, tapping Blythe to move over so she could brush the boy-child Derbic's hair. "I did not get a chance to see them, child," she replied, before beginning to brush her comp through the seven-year-olds long locks. "But I believed they were called _wargs _by Lord Aragorn; your father." 

Niphrediel stroked her cheek against Rivanon's crown. "Yes….my father," she whispered, too quiet for Raewyn to hear. 

"You are very much alike, my dear," Raewyn said, warmly, happy to manoeuvre onto a brighter topic. 

"Éowyn likes him." Niphrediel could not keep her mouth shut about that teeny, tiny, piece of knowledge. 

"Well, Aragorn is a beautiful man, my girl," Raewyn said, both sympathetically and gently. "In a different way from the elf, of course…But, Lady Éowyn is a young woman, as you are, and here is this strong, handsome, wise, gentle and noble man. You could not blame her for her attraction." 

Niphrediel sighed, "You sound as if you can speak from experience." 

Raewyn laughed heartily, her eyes bright as they looked happily over Niphrediel's face. "Oh deary no, lass. I am not concerned with romantics; I just have eyes." 

Niphrediel grinned, "Very well then." 

"Besides," Raewyn smiled, kissing the top of Derbic's head before gently pushing him off the stool. "My lord husband may get jealous," she beamed and sent Niphrediel a wry wink. 

Niphrediel just smiled. While some widows shuddered at the memories of their fallen partners; Raewyn merely relished them. She loved her husband a great deal, far too much to want to forget their joy. Niphrediel only reminded herself, as she pondered on, that Raewyn's situation was the fate of Mortal love. Niphrediel almost shuddered… How fickle. 

Raewyn sighed contently, "I"— 

"Make way for Théoden! Make way for the King!" 

"Hurray! They have returned, Niphrediel," Raewyn said, standing up from her chair as Niphrediel released Rivanon and jumped up; her sword discarded against the arm of her chair. "Go, greet them." 

Niphrediel did not need to be told twice, in this case at least. She jogged to the door and threw it open, before pushing herself in amongst those that stood on the steps leading to the door as her stare headed down, where the riders where getting off their horses. 

However, Niphrediel did not get that far. 

Wether it was by chance or no, Niphrediel saw Éowyn standing in the corner of her eye, down near what seemed to be Théoden's horse. Niphrediel did notice Gimli standing in front of Éowyn, but, mostly, what Niphrediel's attention was directed upon; was Éowyn's facial expression. 

Niphrediel froze; those who stood around her seeming to fade into a moving mix of blurs clouding the borders of her vision. Someone had been killed that Éowyn had known; of that Niphrediel was certain. But…then why would Gimli be there to deliver the news? If it had been someone who had nothing really to do with the dwarf, he would not have been the one to tell her he had fallen in battle. 

Niphrediel's lips parted like two dry strips of skin only days away from chapping. 

Niphrediel could feel her eyes prickle, even though she still had not been told anything. She had not talked to anyone, so how could she have known? Niphrediel had no evidence but instinct, and hers was rather lousy with suck things. 

Suddenly, it was as if she had hit a wall. She felt sick, nauseous and dizzy, her eyelids seeming to weigh the equivalent of a brick as they slowly flickered up and down. Her knees began to weaken; and her legs began to numb. 

She had to keep herself from falling as she watched Legolas walking up the stone steps when he eventually noticed her. The expression on his face spoken volumes, he would not have had to speak if Niphrediel's brain were working correctly. 

Even in the state of sickness Niphrediel had found herself in, she could feel a hundred eyes planted on her. She could feel people looking at her, pitying her, and waiting for her to hear the news so they could see her reaction. 

Yet, strangely, Niphrediel did not know exactly what Legolas was going to say. She simply did not comprehend, even though her body seemed to. Perhaps she did know, but her mind chose to delay such facts for as long as it possibly could. 

"Niphrediel…" Legolas began, when he reached the top. He patted her shoulder, and swallowed long before continuing on. "Aragorn…he, ah…" Legolas licked his lips nervously before speaking again, looking up from the ground to see Niphrediel's reaction. "He fell, Niphrediel." 

Legolas was then silent, and he watched closely for any sign of panic on Niphrediel's face. For a moment, however, he saw nothing. Niphrediel was as blank as an unwritten book. But then, straight after, shock began to set in. Legolas noticed Niphrediel's eyes widen and lower, the dreamy look in them taking on an almost disturbing appearance as they unconsciously began to dampen in what he knew to be tears—though thankfully there were not enough to make trails down her cheeks, for it seemed Niphrediel was too shocked at the moment to cry. 

Her mouth opened, and yet no sound came out, and when Legolas thought Niphrediel was taking a step forward, she was actually _falling_ down. He grabbed her underneath her arms, having to lean over a moment to get a good grip before lifting her up, for her legs seemed to be inadequate to support her weight. 

"Niphrediel? Niphrediel?!" Legolas held her up and looked her face over, seeming to ignore the two lines of tears falling down her two cheeks from two closed eyelids. 

"Gimli!" he cried. "Help!"   


* * *

"Is it too cold?" 

"No." 

Niphrediel laid overtop of the thin covers of a simple white bed in one of the rooms the hall connected to. The room was modest and dark, save the small patches of light sourced by lit candles upon their assorted candleholders. If Legolas could not say so himself, Niphrediel was as pale—if not more so—as how she was before she had seen the light of day. 

Legolas rested in a kneel at the bed's side, an arm laid across the covers' edge while the hand of his other arm moved from a warm bowl of water at the end table beside the bed to Niphrediel's forehead while holding a cloth. 

He dampened Niphrediel's forehead with the cloth, and sporadically squeezed the water from the rag over the top of the mortal's hairline, to wet her hair and sweep it back. 

Legolas had remained there for two hours after he carried Niphrediel to the room. Gimli had taken his place for six hours after that when Théoden called upon Legolas, and Legolas had been here for three hours since his return. Niphrediel had been awake for hours, and she 

Her eyes looked into nothingness, though they seemed to direct themselves towards a small candle standing upon the shelf hanging on the opposite wall. If not for the calm rising and falling of her chest, and her sporadic blinking, Legolas would have been worried. Or, at least, he would have been a little _more _worried. 

"Niphrediel?" he whispered, as to not abruptly disturb the silence of the room, and so his voice would not be able to be heard from others in the other rooms nearby. He knew he would get no reply, but he thought it good to ask every now and then, just in case the orphan wished to speak back. 

Was he doing the right thing? In such a situation, he _was _obligated to stay and attempt to give the child comfort, correct? Just like in the garden in Lorien. 

_She wept out of fear that time, Legolas! It was simple to comfort her then, but loss is something entirely different! Especially for a Mortal…_

Legolas was over his head. Mortals were different then elf-kind; was he making a mistake? He did not know Man's code of conduct when it came to their ways of grieving. Every now and then he would look over his shoulder at the door, wondering which side of it he was supposed to be standing on. 

The mortal race was so complicated with their grief. Their emotions, their reactions, their moods, their expressions, their gestures. Each person seemed more different then the next when it came to losing loved ones. Legolas had not been around those of the kind to know how he was supposed to comfort one that had been a victim of such heartbreak. It was strange… Their death was so… so _final._

Legolas dropped the cloth in the bowl of water for a moment, before drying his hands on a towel placed over the foot of the bed. He leaned over the edge of the bed tiredly, his hand coming unconsciously coming up to brush drops of water off the mortal's brow. 

"Is this a sign?" 

Legolas's eyes did not widen, nor did his lips part; ready to let out a gasp. Though, he was indeed surprised to hear the almost haunting sound, he seemed more disturbed then shocked to hear the words. "Pardon?" 

"Is this a sign?" she repeated. Niphrediel sighed and swallowed hard, before giving her tongue the relief of speaking a way that maybe would let out what she needed to say with a little more ease. "_Tehta tanya_ _amin aa' il'martuva aut haein?" _(A sign that I may not be destined to go further) Niphrediel sat up in her bed and turned to put her back against the wall. Her legs came up in an almost automatic movement, her cold hands joined between her thighs at her crotch. 

Her head nearly banged against the wall as she let herself move back to slouch against it. _"Aragorn il'harme gurthe," _(Aragorn should not have died) Niphrediel hissed angrily at Legolas, with so much frustration it was as if she believed he did not agree; or as if she thought it was his fault. Her tone was sharp in anger yet her eyes revealed frustration, confusion and pain. She did not know how to handle this situation. What in the Valar was she supposed to do? Cry?! Scream?! Beg like Lúthien did the Valar for Beren?? That would get Niphrediel nothing. She was no damn Lúthien. 

_"Her harme nauva sinome!" _(He should be here!) Niphrediel protested, clutching her clasped hands so tightly it stung. Niphrediel shook her head, digging her boots into the mattress of the bed to prevent her sudden urge of lashing out at it. Her head fell; even in such a state she did not want to be seen crying. 

Crying… Niphrediel despised the act more then ever. 

_"Mani martuva amin sii?" _(What happens to me now?) Niphrediel asked; oblivious and negative in every way._ "Amin rimuva eska? N'alaquel Imladris yassen i'sapsa en Gilraen creouva amin?"_ Niphrediel brought her hands over her eyes, her head shaking at the thought her oh-so recent comment. (I run home? Back to Rivendell where the grave of Gilraen will welcome me?" 

_"Amin…n'sinta." _(I…do not know.) Legolas replied quietly, at a loss of words to say. _"Gimli ar' amin il'keluva lle…" _(Gimli and I will not leave you…) Legolas sighed and shook his head. "But even we are at a loss at what will become of us now that Aragorn is gone"— 

"But you have your families," Niphrediel retorted, her hands quipping to her sides to show the glare that shot out from her eyes to burn Legolas face ferociously. _"Lle caela valin eskalle. Lle"—_

Somehow, whatever Niphrediel had just said had pushed Legolas over the edge. His fist bolted from his side and grabbed the collar of Niphrediel's blouse; and with one rough movement, he jerked Niphrediel from her sudden reign of bitter power and confidence. His face was cold; as was his angry stare, a contrast to the shocked and frightened expression that he received in return. 

Niphrediel felt the whip of the elf's harsh breath as he spoke, "Do not speak of things you know nothing about," he shouted. "You know nothing about my homeland's troubles, nor my family. You know absolutely **nothing**!" And, just like that, he released Niphrediel; sending her back against the wall without so much as a flick of his hand. 

Taking heavy breathes, Niphrediel could only watch as Legolas stood from his place before the cot and angrily strode to the door. She noted the fury in his movements as he flung the door open and slammed it behind him, making the finale of his farewell a loud slam. Even though Niphrediel watched the entire thing, she jumped at the sound of the door slamming. 

As soon as she heard that almost echoing sound, Niphrediel regretting every single word she had just spoken. Every single word, Niphrediel wished she could take back. How could she have been so horrible?! And to _Legolas, _of all people. She did not know enough about him to have the right to treat him so. Damn her; damn Niphrediel. 

_Damn it, Niphrediel, chase him!_ At that particular time, Niphrediel would have rather cut off her own hand then have Legolas so infuriated with her. It seemed like she did not give a second thought before jumping onto her feet and following the elf's example to the door. 

"Legolas?" Niphrediel walked into the next room; the hall. She hurriedly scanned it before striding to the main doors. She did not need the eyes of a hawk to know that Legolas was not in there. 

Niphrediel stepped onto the stone platform of the keep, her heart beginning to weigh even heavier against her ribcage. The wind lashed freely at her; her skin automatically feeling the bite of the chill that had been carried through it. Her hair thrashed about her face in the wind as Niphrediel looked from one place to another; the night casting shadows that even her eyesight could not penetrate through. 

He could have been anywhere. Even though Niphrediel probably stood on the best place for her task, there were too many possibilities. Niphrediel eyed the ground bellow, and the area by the drain. Then, casting her eyes in direction of the bridge that lead over to the garrison; Niphrediel felt the sweet taste of relief as the silhouette of stone was disturbed by the statuesque—but inapt—outline of what seemed to be a tall young man. 

Niphrediel gave herself no time for self-doubting and regretting, intent on rushing over in case (by some chance) he moved away. She walked quickly, just short of jogging til she got within a good twenty feet behind him at the foot of the bridge that lead over the outpost where he currently looked over the land from. 

Niphrediel slowed down; her steps quiet as they usually were, though hardly purposely so. Niphrediel knew better then to sneak up on an elf. If she ever did so and it seemed she had done it genuinely and without any warning whatsoever; then that particular elf must be lying. 

Niphrediel stopped at the end of the bridge, her mouth dry as she fought for the right words to say. He continued to stand there. He did not acknowledge her—though, at the same time, did Niphrediel expect him to? 

"I am sorry," she gushed with the exhalation of her breath, shaking her head as she lowered it in shame. "I did not mean to say those words I said!" Niphrediel quickly looked at Legolas; hoping to find some sign of forgiveness on the cold marble of his face. "Honestly!" 

"_Niphred"—_

"I swear on my honour!" Niphrediel interrupted, automatically expecting him to scorn her. Her eyes pleaded with the elf that seemed to refuse to look directly at her to notice. Damn him, how interesting was the landscape anyway? It could not have been that brilliant, yet it seemed Legolas could not take his eyes away. "I promise, I"— 

" Niphrediel! " Legolas exclaimed, with slight annoyance visual in the tone and volume of his voice. Finally, he looked away from the fields bellow the barracks—Niphrediel almost cheered! Though, he still did not look at her, instead he peered into the corner of his eye. Niphrediel knew he could at least see her outline from that angle, but nothing better. Niphrediel also noted he had a rolled blanket under his left arm. Was he planning to _sleep _outside? Here? Well, he _was _an elf… 

Now that he had her quiet, Legolas spoke again, his tone calmer, though also more impassive. "Come closer," he requested firmly, his jaw tightly set and his brows drawn together in a passive frown. 

Niphrediel deeply swallowed, holding her hands behind her back tightly as she took two steps forward. Legolas had to harshly say 'Closer' two times after that til she seemed to stand in the correct place; just beside him. 

It almost made her jump when she watched him sigh deeply and blink, lowering his eyes to the ground as if he was the one that had done the foolish thing. It almost made her unaware of his hand that gently touched the collar of her blouse. His hand was eventually followed by his stare; and Niphrediel could see then that it was not impassive at all; but hurt. 

"Did I hurt you?" 

Niphrediel would have shaken her head, but she did not want to move her neck while it seemed to be inspected. "No!" she said, hoping a bright manner would make him dismiss the topic and accept her apology she had so recently given. 

Legolas pulled the collar from the skin of her neck an inch to the right and shook his head. Legolas simply tapped the small part of flesh he had been paying attention to and sighed. "That will bruise," he said, his eyes seeing more then Niphrediel's clear skin had yet to show. 

Niphrediel shrugged and moved Legolas's hands away from her collar, to show it really did not matter. "That is not important. I think I bruise too easily." 

Legolas shrugged his shoulders and looked back to the fields. "I should not have done that, Niphrediel," he said, "Forg"— 

"I do not blame you," said Niphrediel, cutting him off. 

Legolas sent her a knowing look, "That is no excuse." 

Niphrediel shrugged, beginning to feel uncomfortable as she thought of a proper way to reply to that. "You lost your friend, and you were angry. Your behaviour and actions have become victims to these accounts, not to mention my foolish comment about a place I do not have the knowledge to speak of." 

"… Very well," Legolas mumbled, though still obviously unconvinced and heavy-of-mind. 

Niphrediel sighed, and followed his stare out into the open fields. Aragorn's body was out there somewhere. Cold… Wet… Lonely. 

_Aragorn…_

Mental images flew through Niphrediel's mind: corpses bloody and blue; skin grey and cold…odour sickening and ghastly. 

_Arwen… _Niphrediel felt her stomach flip and her heart miss a beat. Poor Undómiel… 

_Poor Arwen? Poor Arwen, with a living father and two brothers? Poor Arwen, with magnificent grandparents and an impeccable lineage? Poor Arwen, with a place in the Undying Lands? Oh yes, Niphrediel, "poor, poor, Arwen"._

"Something is not right…" 

Niphrediel glanced at Legolas, her train of thought broken. She frowned, pondering for a quick moment before expression her curiosity. "What is not right?" she pondered, patiently. 

Legolas let out a breath, marking the air with it like a dragon breathing frost. "I….I do not know. But something… _something_. I can feel it in the pits of my stomach and in the very depths of my heart," Legolas took Niphrediel's hand and placed it over the left side of his chest, as if she would declare him senile if he did not give some sort of evidence. "Can you feel that?" 

Niphrediel lied, and nodded slowly before she was able to replace her hand at her hip. She then absently began to graze her palm against the hip of her trousers, as if they were dirty. Niphrediel frowned at the almost stinging sparks that stabbed like needles into the skin of her hand at the feeling of being touched. She watched Legolas look to the black sky, and felt her stomach flip. 

Niphrediel's frown darkened. Maybe she was getting a little sick or something? 

"Something stirs in the air," he whispered, his voice lifting into the chilly air that blew around him. "Something stirs in the earth…but I cannot put my finger on it. But…but, I _know _it as I know myself… Aragorn's voice echoes words inside my mind yet I cannot hear what he is saying. I try to listen but he is too quiet even for my hearing." 

Legolas shook his head, "I will speak no more of these things. Not until I can make out what the meaning is for myself. Worry naught, that will be all for now." 

Niphrediel shrugged, "I am not worrying." _You liar. _Niphrediel bit her lip and hugged herself, grasping her icy arms with numb fingertips. 

Legolas turned his head, regarding her with a light stare. "You are cold," he said, his intonation making it obvious that he was not asking a question. "Go inside," he nodded towards the bridge, "before you catch cold. I would not want you sick." 

Niphrediel shook her head immediately, "No, all is well. I am fine," she assured lamely, refusing to move. "Honest, I am fine." 

Legolas's mouth stretched slowly into a smile; and though it seemed as if he was going to laugh, Niphrediel did not hear that particular tune. "You cannot be serious," he tugged the bottom of her chemise. "A bear would be cold in that." His wit was returning; he was beginning to feel better. 

"Hush, I am fine," Niphrediel retorted, feigning annoying rather well—though, sadly, not well enough. She continued to blink, though her flicking eyelids began to rise and fall more slowly each time. 

"You are fibbing," Legolas stated, with a laugh, "and you are tired. Niphrediel, go to bed." 

"No." 

Legolas glared at her, though his smile remained at his own regard. "Niphrediel, I will push you off the edge of the garrison. You need to lie down, be warm, and sleep." 

"No," Niphrediel frowned, becoming rather angry at this argument. _Just give up Legolas; I refuse to return to the Cry Room. _

That was exactly what it was too, a damn Cry Room. It must have been the candles… It was like lying in a tomb. Too bad for Niphrediel if it was becoming rather hard to stop herself from swaying since she truly was very tired… Damn her for being so bloody stubborn. 

Legolas hissed something under his breath, some swearword, perhaps, that Niphrediel did not have the hearing to catch. 

"Do not complain," Niphrediel protested. "You are just going to be standing here anyway, right?" 

Though still obviously frustrated, Legolas did nod to that. "Probably. But, I do not need the rest that you do." 

"I do not want to go back to that room," Niphrediel mumbled, somewhat hoping he would hear her. 

Legolas smirked, "Well, unless you are willing to curl up on the dirty floor of the garrison, feel free to sleep here," his voice seemed to trail off, his expression suddenly becoming pensive. 

"Do not fret about whatever I chose to do, Elf," Niphrediel said. "You can just…. stand there." 

"Niphrediel, I will probably be here all night," Legolas sent her an almost helpless look. "You will not be able to handle that long in the open without warmth and rest." 

Niphrediel shrugged, putting on a strong face even though she knew that Legolas was absolutely correct, "I do not want to go back into the room." 

Legolas sighed, "You wish to remain here with me that desperately?" 

Niphrediel shot him a quick glare, "What else is there for me to do? I do not know where Gimli is." 

"Niphrediel, I swear to you, you _will _be struggling to stay awake in less then five minutes or so. Do not doubt me," Legolas shook his head, absolutely incredulous. 

"Oh hush." Niphrediel could not think of anything better to say. How sad… 

"Five minutes, Niphrediel"— 

"I do not care! Be quiet!" Niphrediel yelled in childish argumentation. 

Again, Legolas sighed and his shoulders slumped in defeat. "Fine," he hissed, before he began fiddling with **his **blanket that he still held in his left hand. Beginning to unfold it, with his head still shaking in obvious disbelieving, Legolas let the wind blow the crinkles out of it before holding it up. 

"I cannot believe this," he exclaimed to himself, rather then Niphrediel, before giving her quite a fright by roughly wrapping it around her. "There!" Legolas growled smugly, making Niphrediel support the blanket with her own hands. 

"No more complaining," he added, over his shoulder. 

Niphrediel pulled the thick wool around her close, her skin blissfully rubbing against the covers. The tips of her mouth curved upwards, yet Niphrediel was not too sure wether or not her face recognised the reaction of smiling too well. "Very well," she mumbled, smirking with glee on the inside. 

"Warm?" Legolas quickly added; care and concern suddenly mingled in the sound of his voice. 

Niphrediel nodded, "Yes." 

Legolas nodded once, brushing his hands together proudly, "Excellent," he said, before coming silent. Niphrediel merely had to glance at him to see that he was silent in abstraction. He was thinking hard about something; but Niphrediel could only guess what. 

"I will tell you what…" Niphrediel was almost surprised to hear his voice. So accustomed to the recent silence was she that the breaking of it came nearly made her jump. 

Niphrediel's brow arched when Legolas hesitated to finish his sentence. "You will tell me what?" she inquired, gently pressing him to continue. "Well?" 

"One day, I will take you to Mirkwood," Legolas nodded in satisfaction at the idea. He looked at Niphrediel, his eyes glimmering with sympathy. "I can feel your anxiety at the idea of returning to Rivendell without…" Legolas needed not to say his name, "well…you know. My father's kingdom has it's troubles…but it has it's beauty also, which is what we fight for. If you ever.... wished to go there…I would always be there to pass you through safely." 

"Thankyou." For the first time that evening, Niphrediel smiled. Well, at least her lips _attempted_ to curve into what Niphrediel hoped resembled some variant of a smile. It reached her eyes, nevertheless, and hopefully the elf would take more notice of that then her mouth's uncoordinated stretch. 

_"Caeleb?"_

Somewhat shocked, Niphrediel turned around to see Rivanon standing in nothing but his nightgown in front of the opened door of the keep; the wind unmerciful on his golden skin as he looked with damp eyes from one place to another in search of his beloved Caeleb. 

Niphrediel's lips parted in shock. _What is he doing up? _Niphrediel glanced behind the boy to see if Raewyn or any other adult was racing after him to pill him back inside where it was warm. There were none, and Niphrediel could not help but feel moderately angry for that. 

Looking back at Legolas, Niphrediel took the blanket off her shoulders and quickly folded it back up. Trying to ignore what a tatty job of the folding the blanket she had done, Niphrediel held it out for Legolas to take. "Thank you," she said, the cold wind making her eyes water. 

Legolas must have thought she was becoming glassy-eyed from something more melancholic, for he simply nodded and took the blanket with a hand; his strong stare upon her face like a slow fire. 

With a shrug of her shoulders, Niphrediel turned and made for the bridge; her pace quick due to her haste to reach the clueless Rivanon. 

"Niphrediel?" 

With that, Niphrediel paused in her step and turned around. With her brows high, she looked back at the elf. "Yes?" 

"I do not believe he is dead," is all he said, nothing in his intonation to display anything but gentle honesty. Legolas hoped he was right to convey such beliefs; and hoped just as much, if not more, that perhaps Niphrediel would be comforted by his words. 

But, for a moment Niphrediel said nothing. Legolas's breath was caught in his throat for a moment. Would she not be somewhat joyous that there could be doubt of her keeper's death? That maybe there was a chance that perhaps, just perhaps, Aragorn was out there…somewhere? 

Perhaps Niphrediel was more of an enigma then he thought, for her eyes wondered downwards in though and her mouth stayed closed in silence before she slowly turned her head around again and continued on across the bridge to the fair-haired infant on the other side. The only words afterwards that he heard her say was _"Come on, Rivanon," _before she picked the boy up and went into the keep. 

Legolas's jaw clenched in anger and slight frustration. At that very moment, he recognised his slight jealousy of the little Rohirric boy for stealing Niphrediel's attention from him. He cursed himself for such immature, and rash thoughts. He was no child! He was no young mortal man fighting for some maid's attention! 

Legolas's brow furred into a frown before he turned and began to walk further across the barracks. With his morbid expression and his eyes set to the floor, he seemed rather disturbed at something unspoken and unexpressed.   


* * *

_The shadows were dark, looming over every corridor and every room. Never had there been such darkness in the Elvenhome of Imladris. Never had Niphrediel's eyes seen such shadow in its purest form strong enough to show its face within the House of Elrond. In a long, dark, corridor, Niphrediel felt herself stepping closer and closer to the door at the very end that lead to Gilraen's chamber._

_The door to her chamber was open. The very thought of this made Niphrediel know something was wrong. Gilraen's door was _never _open. Yet, though Niphrediel took another step forward, and then another, and another; she could not see what was inside the room. She could see the candles on the far wall that ran that the opened door could show; but nothing of more importance._

_'Niphrédiel?' Gilraen! Her voice was riddled in pain. Niphrediel's teeth clenched as she felt her stomach churn forward. She was being hurt!_

_Niphrediel's lips parted, and her pace quickly moved into a run, and then quickly into a harsh sprint when the corridor seemed to lengthen and her mother's door became more far away. _

_Faster and faster, Niphrediel ran. She ran so quickly she could not feel the ground beneath her feet. Her lungs screamed for mercy and her heart for resolution but she refused to stop._

_'Niphrédiel!!' Gilraen screamed, her voice echoing through the corridor._

_Niphrediel began to weep, tears falling from her eyes in frustration and hurt. She could not reach her! 'Mother!' she cried, her body becoming unable to continue on and her knees beginning to buckle from their recent abuse. _

_'Niphrédiel!'_

_Niphrediel fell onto her knees, her fists banging against her chest as she watched the door become smaller and smaller as the corridor grew. She could not win. 'Moth'—_

_Niphrediel's voice fell as it was interrupted by a loud, agonising scream. Almost immediately, Niphrediel's hands latched onto her ears as she tried desperately to shut the noise out. She cried loudly; but even that was engulfed by Gilraen's screaming._   


**'Mother!'**

_Niphrediel bolted up on her bed, her eyes wide circles of black in the darkness that shrouded her bedchamber. Tears were formed in the eyes of the little girl as they darted from one place to the other in hyperactive horror as if she almost expected something to jump out from the gloom and gobble her up._

_Her darting eyes of horror became darting eyes of search, as nothing seemed to move or enter her room. A frown came upon the innocent face of the child as absent tears rolled over her pallor and cold cheeks. _

_Was someone not supposed to come and comfort her? Niphrediel wiped her cheeks and quietly slipped out of her bed, her tiny feet stinging subtly with the bite of the early morning chill._

_The door of her chamber creaked as her white hand pushed it open, and Niphrediel was careful to dodge the rays of mild sunlight that snuck into the corridor through the edges of the curtains that hung over the windows for the very purpose of keeping the sunlight out._

_Niphrediel ran to the door a mere seven metres from her own door. She had to stretch high on the tips of her toes to reach the doorknob, but thankfully the doorhandle was a rather easy mechanism for the hands of a child to overcome._

_Niphrediel almost cheered as the door silently opened, and she spared no time in taking a peak inside to make sure her presence was unknown before closing it behind her with all the concentration she could muster to do so without too much of a slam._

_There was a bit of a screech as the lebethron door closed, but thankfully it was not loud enough to wake anyone up. Niphrediel shivered; this particular room was always colder then hers was, but the blankets on the bed, however, were the most warm and soft then any others Niphrediel had lain in!_

_After quickly giving the large room another once-over, Nieninquë set off like a bolt of lightning towards the large bed on the other side of the room. Due only to the weight of the girl's tiny body, the mattress did not give any mind to her existence when she jumped like a spring onto the foot of it._

_Niphrediel took a long drag of the sweet scent of the blankets as she crawled higher onto it. It was so much bigger then her own; though she thought that rather suitable, since the person who slept on it was much bigger and stronger and braver then she was. _

_The right side of the bed was always empty just for her, so Niphrediel knew that she would not be trampling over any stray legs or whatnot, but she made sure she movement smoothly enough that she would not make a large thump in the mattress when she collapsed onto the pillows at the head._

_She turned her little head to the one that lay somewhat beside it on the left. It was her Aragorn!_

_His face was blank and peaceful, his skin unmarked by age and care and his hair as raven as the night itself; without so much as a hint of grey. His eyes were closed in sleep, and his breath came calm and deep. Even when he was in such an unweary state, Niphrediel could not have felt safer. Nothing could hurt her now!_

_Maybe she had made more noise then she had meant to, for the corners of Aragorn's mouth stretched into something of a proud smirk and his arm came up; his hand holding the folds of his white blankets up for Niphrediel to come into—and so, she did!_

_Niphrediel kicked her legs into the blankets and Aragorn blindly draped his arm over her as he lowered the blanket down again. Niphrediel turned into him, snuggling into the pillows, and only when she was finally completely comfortable, Aragorn pulled her against him in a small hug that would last through til the morning. _

_Aragorn ceased to move again, however it was a little harder for Niphrediel to close her eyes and go back to sleep; so she just stared at his face until her eyelids grew heavy. _

_"Aragorn?"_

_Aragorn sighed, "What?"_

_"Where did mother go?"_

_" You will understand one day. Go to sleep now."_

_With a pout, Niphrediel closed her eyes…_   


And, without the pout, Niphrediel's eyes flickered open. 

As per usual, her sight was always rather blurry when she had either slept too long or too little; and so it took her a moment or so for the colours and objects before her to take proper shape. 

Still lost in her dream, Niphrediel looked to the face of Aragorn lying opposite her in his unchanged position. But, slowly, Niphrediel's memory began to wake up, and her imagination faded. 

Thus, her eyes widened and glistened as they looked over the more familiar, worn, and tiresome face of the son of Arathorn, and she reached out with a hand to touch his unmoving cheek. But, just as her fingertips went to lower themselves onto the golden skin of Aragorn's face; her vision of him faded, leaving her nothing but air to look upon. 

With a short gasp, Niphrediel jumped up on her bed and rubbed her eyes with her hands just to test the dependability of her eyesight. 

"What the…" Niphrediel's voice broke off quickly, as her incredulous stare scanned the bedroom. "Ara…gorn?" 

He fell, Niphrediel, _Niphrediel recalled Legolas's voice from recent memory after the empty bedroom gave her no reply._

_Niphrediel felt her mentality revolt. No, he hadn't. He was right there!_

He is dead, Niphrediel, _she thought. _Aragorn is dead! It was a dream, damn it all. A **dream**—it was not real. 

"A dream…" Niphrediel coughed, the phlegm in her throat no more. In pensive silence, Niphrediel stood up from the bed, rubbing the back of her neck with her left hand. 

Noticing a bundle of black on the chair near the bed, Niphrediel was almost surprised to see a carefully folded black tunic and a pair of brown leather leggings. Niphrediel identified the leggings; they were similar to the ones the Riders of Rohan used to wear. 

_Éomer…_ Niphrediel could only wonder where he was now. _Curse you, Gríma!_

Quickly taking off her clothing, Niphrediel relished the caress of clean fabric as she pulled up the trousers and attached her belt to keep it up. The black tunic… Niphrediel recognised the embroidery; Raewyn had made it. Quickly putting it on, Niphrediel noted it fitted _too _well. It must have been made for her. 

"Oh, Raewyn…" Niphrediel was touched, pulling the long sleeves down before brushing her hair with the dull comb she had kept in a pocket of her old pants. 

Tying some of her hair back while leaving the rest to dangle, Niphrediel left her room. She had been thinking the night before; and had come to a decision. The hall was populated by a moderate number of Rohirrim; but it seemed none of them could look her in the face. Save the children, of course. 

Too preoccupied to be frustrated at that, Niphrediel turned and headed for the open door. The sun was morning bright; yet Niphrediel could not help but feel uneasy about the way it shone down. 

The sunlight scorned her eyes as she stepped out from the shade, and almost automatically Niphrediel thought perhaps it would be a better idea to walk back inside. But no, Niphrediel thought. She wanted a little time to think for a while, and the keep was far too crowded for such a desire. 

She had seen him! She had! He had been so clearly displayed before her; she could have reached out a hand and _touched_ him. Niphrediel could smell him… He still lingered in the air! It tainted her clothes; she smelt like him! 

Niphrediel slumped against the stone wall with her arms crossed, her hands quick to wipe away the clues of her confusion and torment. The facts said he was dead, yet her heart said he could not be! What was wrong with her? She was beginning to hallucinate—how else could she have seen Estel lying beside her when he was no longer living? Her imagination must have enjoyed playing such a cruel joke on her. 

Niphrediel almost trembled. What a cruel, cruel, _cruel _joke. 

"Niphrediel?" Niphrediel felt a hand on her shoulder; it's touch warm and light enough for her to tell in a split instinct that it was the hand of a woman. 

Niphrediel dropped her hand and looked up to the caring eyes of Éowyn. With a sigh of something resembling defeat, Niphrediel was at least relieved to see that neither Legolas nor Gimli accompanied Éowyn. She did not want their sentiments or any more of their burdening pity. 

Éowyn smiled gently, "Are you well, Niphrediel?" She wiped the residue of a tear from Niphrediel's left eye with the soft skin of the back of her pale knuckle. 

Niphrediel's cheeks churned red and she quickly looked over Éowyn's shoulders to see if anyone had noticed her. "I…I am well enough, Éowyn," Niphrediel replied, returning her attention to the fair-haired maiden, unable to help from giving grinning at Éowyn's obvious care. 

Éowyn smirked somewhat and rolled her eyes, "Of course you are," she said, sarcasm in every word. 

Niphrediel had to smile. "Is it that obvious?" she asked, suddenly becoming overly anxious. 

"Well…" Éowyn paused for a moment before using the edge of her sleeve to wipe away every hint of tears still visible on Niphrediel's face. "There," she finally said, taking her hand away. "It is not obvious at all." 

Niphrediel smiled, before she opened her arms and embraced her Rohirric friend. She received as warm a hug as she gave in return too, which was something of a nice surprise. Niphrediel have a sigh in bliss; this was something she needed, a nice warm hug from someone else who cared about her. And, in some ways, Niphrediel also knew that was something Éowyn needed as well. 

Éowyn deserved to be treated like a princess. If Niphrediel were a prince, she would have been able to do something more proper about it, but alas, she had neither the gender, body or crown to be anyone's Prince Charming or a Knight in Shinning Armour. She had the courage, though, and the wild spirit. However, within the prison of a female body, Niphrediel would always think such character wasted. 

In their moment of sisterly affection, both maids did not notice a growing mass forming about the bottom of the stair as someone entered through into the refuge upon the horse of a dead prince. 

"Éowyn?" Niphrediel sighed as both girls parted from one another. 

Éowyn's brows rose in curiosity, "What is it?" 

Niphrediel hesitated before continuing, "Do you think everything would have been so horrible…if Théodred had not died?" her voice was small and quiet. Niphrediel did not want anyone else to hear her except the maid before her. 

Éowyn's expression cooled at Niphrediel's question; the softness in her stare replaced by repressed hurt and sorrow. Éowyn's body tensed at her eyes fell to the floor as a moment of silence followed. "Théodred would have made a world of difference," Éowyn finally replied; her voice drowned by the sudden ruckus of Théoden's people surrounding the unknown visitor. 

It was Éowyn who had to look away first, her stare oblivious as it scanned the faces of people she had known all her life. "He always did," she concluded to herself aloud, unaware that Niphrediel had heard as well. 

Suddenly, Niphrediel watched as Éowyn's face paled. "By the sun and moon!" Éowyn gasped, her eyes wide and glowing. 

_"Where is he?!" _Niphrediel could recognise Gimli's loud grunt anywhere, but she could only wonder why Éowyn looked so shocked. Gimli and Legolas must have been putting on a show by arguing, Niphrediel thought. Even then, she would have thought it would not be so surprising to Éomer's younger sister. 

_"Where is he?!"_ Gimli repeated. _"Get out of my way! I'm gonna kill him!"_

Prying her gaze from Éowyn's face, a smile shaped her mouth at the mere sound of whatever was happening bellow. Niphrediel allowed her curiosity to get the better of her and took a look. 

Niphrediel's breath caught in her throat. 

_"__You are the…the luckiest, the cunningest, and most reckless man I ever knew! Bless you, laddie!"_

Niphrediel blinked several times, a hand upon the nearest pillar to lean on, just in case her body lost it's fickle vitality. "Éowyn??" she whispered as the Lady of Rohan grasped her hand in support. "Am I…Am I"— 

"I see it too," Éowyn whispered back, already knowing that Niphrediel was going to question her sight. She covered the Dunedain maid's hand with her spare one and held it there for a moment as what seemed to be a bright, fake, sad smile crossed to lips. "He is real," she said, with tears in her eyes that looked both joyful—and sad. 

_"Gimli, where is the king?"_

"Go greet your father," Éowyn then pressed, watching Aragorn's movements without so much as a blink as he made his way up the stairs onto their level. He had yet to notice them, though, for both maids were far to the left, where Isildur's heir had yet to scan. 

Noticing that Niphrediel had not moved, Éowyn shot her a look. "Do not cry," she said, quite the hypocrite, before whipping out her sleeve to wipe away the cold tears that were uncontrollably rolling down the raven-haired maiden's cheeks. "No more crying," Éowyn said, before nudging Niphrediel forward. 

Niphrediel watched Aragorn walk to the top of the stairs, then directly into the path of Legolas; whom simply stood where he was like some sort of statue; as if he had been waiting. 

Niphrediel noted the male's moment of silence, and though she parted her mouth to speak, she did not let her voice go passed her imagination. She gave the two their own moment of greeting. 

_"Le ab-dollen,"_ Legolas said simply, softly. So he had known all along. That was what he had been feeling the night before. The elf grinned, before looking the Dúnadan over. "You look terrible." 

Niphrediel smiled into the skin of her two palms. _Praise the Valar! Praise the Ainur! Praise the everything! _Niphrediel cherished the sudden euphoria, and watched patiently as Legolas gave Aragorn what looked to be the Evenstar pendant. Niphrediel nearly gasped, she had not known the elf had been carrying it while Aragorn had not been around. 

"_Hannon le_," Aragorn said softly, staring down at the jewel. "Niphrediel?" Aragorn looked back up at Legolas, anxiety pouring from his being. 

Legolas nodded to the side. "She is right there," he grinned. 

Aragorn frowned and followed his friend's direction—and there she was! 

Niphrediel seemed a little less joyful on the outside then Aragorn for she just stood where she was and looked at him in a way that was almost crossly. "I hate you, Aragorn," though tears ran, her voice was clear, and words spoken in anger but not truth. 

Aragorn accepted her message with a grievous nod, "I best not jump of a cliff any moment soon, then?" He just stood there with his arms at his sides. Was he testing to see how long it would take for her to jump up and hold him? If he was, it did not take long at all. 

Niphrediel rushed up to Aragorn and held him close so tightly her lungs were squashed for breath. Aragorn's body ached at the embrace, but he still returned it just as strongly. 

Niphrediel did not have to look to see that he was exhausted and worn out. She could simply tell. 

Minutes went by, and only then did the two part from each other. 

"Did the wargs hurt you badly, Aragorn?" Niphrediel asked quickly, looking over the older man. 

Aragorn gently patted the side of her cheek and kissed her temple twice without an answer. "It does not matter, Niphrediel," he finally said, as he walked through the door to see the king. 

Niphrediel watched the door close behind him, and looked over to Legolas who simply smiled smugly back at her. "You knew," she grinned. 

Legolas shook his head. "No no no, I just had a hint," he said, before taking Niphrediel's hand and leading her through the door to wherever Aragorn had headed off to past it.   


* * *

Isengard was coming to destroy the remnants of Rohan. The War of the Ring was going to unhappily witness the entry of it's first real battle. 

By the Valar…had Aragorn come back simply to fall again to a death that he could not simply jump back from? Was it just going to be Aragorn? What about Legolas? Or-or Gimli?! Éowyn? Rivanon? Raewyn? Gandalf?? 

Ten thousand strong Uruk-Hai… Ten _thousand _strong Uruk-Hai… Ten thousand _strong _Uruk-Hai on their march to destroy Helms Deep and every living thing inside it. Ten thousand strong Uruk-Hai on their march to murder the people Théodred had died for; the people Aragorn had almost died for. 

Niphrediel was allowed to be at least a _little _terrified, no? It was going to be a battle for the future of an entire bloody culture; a realm; a race. There was not enough men able enough to fight for Rohan's people against the beasts of Isengard, so Niphrediel dismissed her fear as something natural under the given situation. 

Children of the appropriate sex were going to fight under armour too heavy and weapons too blunt among the realm's men while women of the appropriate strength and agility were to be sent down into the caves to take care of the children that were too young to die with their fathers. 

Niphrediel had changed into one of Éowyn's spare dresses. She did not want to dirty Raewyn's perfect tunic. 

She held Alagos in her left hand, looking from one man's face from the next as some headed towards the armoury, and others to the fortification. They were allowing twelve-year-olds to die by the hands of orcs yet there was nothing that Niphrediel could have done to give her permission to fight as well. 

She walked into the armoury, dodging passed males of all shapes, sizes, and ages. Niphrediel was among the last few of the women that had yet to enter the caves. Some were healers, giving quick tutorials to those that would listen about how to move someone if they had a broken back or some similar ailment. Some others, however, were just helping; like Niphrediel. 

She walked further inside, surprised to see Legolas sitting alone on the top of a wooden table, a fine set of shoulder guards on his lap that he blankly stared onto. His weapons were all laid upon the table; side-by-side, bow and all, as if Legolas wanted a moment to revise them. 

"Legolas? You there?" Niphrediel peered closer to the elf, brows high. 

Legolas turned his head and nodded to her. "Of course," he simply replied. 

Niphrediel smiled and walked over to a spare chair and sat down. "What are you doing?" 

With a shrug, Legolas let out a cold sigh, "Nothing. Just taking a moment to think." 

"Would you like me to leave?" Niphrediel asked casually, about to pick herself up from her chair and exit the way she came. 

Legolas shook his head, "No, no… it is not the kind of moment that requires solitude." 

Niphrediel shrugged, though still rose from her chair. "Very well then," she said, unable to keep her curiosity towards the shoulder guards to keep from picking one up. 

Legolas watched the young mortal look at what he had chosen to be his only piece of additional armour. "Do you like it?" he asked sarcastically, as if he actually cared. 

Niphrediel nodded casually, "I do, actually. It looks quite becoming. I am sure it will be quite an asset…" 

"I agree to that," Legolas replied. "It is a simple piece, but it will serve me well. The Rohirrim are quite intelligent when it comes to the building of armour. Now, be a good lass and help me put the little charmers on." 

Niphrediel nodded and waited for Legolas to stand up straight and take his cloak off to make it easier for her. It was a simple piece to put on, though Niphrediel's hands sometimes had a couple problems with the buckles that kept them up. It seemed there was something else that was irritating her to such a degree that such a simple procedure was suddenly difficult. 

Niphrediel was standing much too close to Legolas for her own liking…that was it! Niphrediel had to frown. She had never been aware of how close she stood to him before, why in the name of the Valar was she beginning to do so now? Niphrediel could sense _his_ ease; it was only her that had the problem. She almost wanted to slap herself—he was her friend! 

_Maybe_ that was it… Legolas was her friend, and that made her uncomfortable. After all, Niphrediel did not want anymore elvish loved ones, and he had somehow made quick work of her will to keep her friend list unchanging when it came to elves that would live to see her die grey.Niphrediel almost cheered—that was exactly it!! 

But, then again, Niphrediel could not have been sure. She could not understand herself as easily as she used to. She hated that really. It irritated her to no end; she disliked being such a stranger to herself. That was not the way her mind worked. 

"Legolas?" Niphrediel patting the last shoulder guard and took a step to the side as Legolas strapped on his bracers. 

"What is it, Niphrediel?" he mumbled absently, sparing no time in dawdling with such a simple process. 

"If we live through all this and Aragorn…. you know…. goes to Gondor and becomes…. you know what…. will you visit me?" Niphrediel frowned as she asked, disliking how shy the tone of her voice made her sound.It almost surprised her. 

Legolas shrugged, "It all depends, Niphrediel." 

Niphrediel's brows rose. "On what?" 

"Well…" Legolas took a moment to think, "On wether not you would want me to, probably," he was not baiting her; he was just answering her honestly. Besides, he seemed too busy putting on his quiver and daggers to really concentrate on baiting her anyway. 

"I think I would want you to," Niphrediel nodded. 

Legolas shrugged and shoved his bow on his back. "Well then; yes, I would visit you." 

Niphrediel nodded and made her way to the door, "I will be with Aragorn. If I do not see you; be careful." 

Legolas gave a quick nod of his head, "Very well. If I do not see you; keep Alagos at your side at all times—just in case." 

Niphrediel smiled, nodded, then left. 

* * *

"Aragorn?" Niphrediel jogged from the armoury to Aragorn's side. He was yet to be armed, standing beside Brego. 

Aragorn's head whipped in Niphrediel's direction at the sound of her voice. Niphrediel could see the urgency in his hurried movements and alert gaze. "Niphrediel!" he called, "Come! Hurry!" 

Niphrediel frowned, following her keeper's instructions with subtle confusion. "Aragorn?" she glanced at the horse, "why the hurry?" 

Aragorn grasped Niphrediel's shoulders; pulling her close enough for them to look eye-to-eye. "Niphrediel, I need you to do something for me." 

Niphrediel's stare sharpened in worry. "Anything," she said, her body tensing under its layer of grey wool. 

Aragorn stilled and took in a deep breath before looking at her gravely. "Get on the horse and ride back to Edoras"— 

"Aragorn, no"— 

"When you reach Edoras, head east til you reach the Entwade. Cross and follow the Entwash River"— 

Niphrediel shook her head, "Stop"— 

"til you reach Anorien. Travel beside the mountains til you see Minas Tirith," Aragorn ordered sternly, ignoring Niphrediel's interruptions. "You will be safe there long enough to send word to Rivendell or Lothlorien. If you loose your way; just continue east across Anorien to Cair Andros, then head to Minas Tirith from the north." 

"Legolas!" Niphrediel exclaimed loudly, desperate for assistance. She was not going to leave. 

Legolas walked from the armoury; a somewhat confused expression on his face. He walked to Aragorn and Niphrediel, arms crossed and brow furred. "Niphrediel?" 

"Make him stop, Legolas! He is talking folly"— 

Aragorn shot her a stern glare, "Niphrediel, get on the horse." 

Legolas's arms uncrossed as he looked to Aragorn in something resembling disbelief. Niphrediel bit her lip; that _did _mean he was on _her_ side, right? 

"Aragorn," Legolas began, incredulous, "you want to force her to _run_?" 

"If it means she will live to see another day; in the Valar's name, I would make you run too, Legolas," Aragorn countered sharply. 

Niphrediel shook her head, "I am not going to run like some coward! These people are as dear to me as my own." 

"Niphrediel, no one will see you run," Aragorn protested. "I order you, damn it. I order you to leave now!" he shouted, suddenly his voice more then a simple exclamation. 

"It is not in me to run!" Niphrediel yelled back in return. 

Aragorn turned his head to the ground, giving himself a moment to calm himself down before continuing. "A plague of ten thousand Uruk-Hai are heading this way at this very moment," he said. "If you leave now, you may be able to evade them and safe yourself"— 

"I am not going to die, Aragorn," Niphrediel argued. 

Aragorn nodded, "Of course you will not! Not if you go _now_!" 

"This is a little unfair, Aragorn," Legolas mumbled, before silencing himself once more after receiving a severe glare from Estel in return for his opinion. 

"I am not going to abandoned these people!" Niphrediel swore, "especially not now! Théodred would have stood beside his people—so in his stead, I shall do so for him!" 

"Yes, Niphrediel, and he _died _doing so. I would rather suffer one thousand deaths then to have you die before I do, damn it," Aragorn's eyes were like cold ice. "If any of those creatures get into the Glittering Caves and sneak up on you; that is all it will need. If the defences do not hold, then it could mean your death"— 

"Then the defences better hold," Niphrediel said firmly, smugly, before walking past Aragorn; heading for the Glittering Caves. 

"Damn her stubbornness," Aragorn cursed under his breath. 

Legolas could not help but laugh under his breath, "Oh? That does not remind you of someone?" 

"Silence." 

Legolas shrugged, "She was always going to disagree, Aragorn." 

Aragorn sighed and rubbed his temple. "I do love her though, Legolas." 

"I know you do, Aragorn," Legolas replied gently. "It will be the death of you." 

"We will see." 

* * *

  


"He is angry with me." 

"He will overcome it, Niphrediel," Legolas assured, patting her on the shoulder as he lead her through to the doors of the Glittering Caves. He stoped with her just before it, knowing that he was supposed to be walking in the opposite direction. "He always does." 

"Still," Niphrediel mumbled as she came to a stop with him. "I cannot help but feel scared." 

"Scared of what?" 

"Scared that those might be the last words I ever say to him," Niphrediel gripped the sides of her skirts before stepping closer to Legolas, so that her quiet voice would have no problem reaching him as it hushed into a whisper. "Legolas, what if something goes wrong," she whispered. "What if an Uruk-Hai sneaks through into the caves? What if I die? What if Aragorn dies? What if you"— 

"I am not going to die," Legolas swore quickly. "Calm down, Niphrediel. Calm." He cleared the hair from the sides of her face with his hands and patted the back of her head. "Calm," he repeated, watching at the moisture layering the mortal's eyes began to diminish. 

"No crying," urged Legolas. 

"Legolas, I do not want to die"— 

"Do not think about such folly," he immediately interrupted. 

Niphrediel took in a shallow breath, "What if you die?" It was as if her imagination was purposefully making up such scenarios specifically to hurt her. 

Legolas shook his head, "I am not going to die." 

"What if I die?" Niphrediel cowered. 

"We will not let you die. Not I, not Gimli, not Aragorn," Legolas said with a subtle tone of finality. 

Niphrediel's brows rose at that, as if in hope. "You swear?" she asked after a long, pensive silence. 

"I swear on each and every inch of my soul," said Legolas, hoping his overconfidence was not too obvious in its loss of practise. 

Niphrediel stepped in and hugged the elf mercilessly. He had given her a little faith…bless him. She hugged Legolas hard, hoping her arms were not choking him too badly. She had only ever hugged him once, so she could not have known if her embrace was _too _hard, but, at the same time, she did not care; he made her feel better, holding her as warmly as he could while still acting as if she were made of glass. 

Niphrediel frowned as she watched others pass them by, giving them suspicious glances she was completely oblivious to, wondering when the arms around her would finally loosen and she would be prematurely released. The quicker he let go, the quicker he would be running off to fight and die—but no, Legolas was a gentleman; he was not going to move away til she let go, til she wanted him to stop. 

Niphrediel almost shook her head, incredulous. How did such a gentle person be such a fierce warrior? Legolas was such a good sort. _May darkness fall on any who dares harm him, _Niphrediel said as she pulled him in just a little closer, in an almost protective stance, as she guiltily admitted to herself that she had but another elf to grieve over…eventually. 

_Loss…Curse the demon that created such a pain, _thought Niphrediel. 

Niphrediel pretended to inspect the lining of the guard over Legolas's left shoulder as a lump grew in her throat. "Someone once told me that loss builds strength," she mumbled, as she began to let him go before she felt a little emotional again. 

"You do not need to lose something to be a strong person," Legolas replied quietly, wisely, hesitating a moment before letting go as well. "But, you need to be at least a little tough to _find _something." Then, kissing the raven-haired crown of her head, and lightly brushing back a tendril of stray hair; Legolas took a step back with a bowed head and a caring expression. 

"Théodred was my friend," Niphrediel began, her eyes somewhat widening as she found herself saying anything and everything that came into her head. Legolas listened to every word. "He was sure of himself, he was brave, he was strong, he was a warrior"— 

"Niphrediel"— 

"He was killed," Niphrediel had to interject Legolas's gentle attempt of an interruption. "If I have to mourn to the face of another grave, I willdie." Niphrediel wiped her eye with the woollen sleeve of her dress before any tear had the chance to build, though the glassy moisture that was forming was out of her control, sadly. 

"You do not have to say anything," Niphrediel added after some length, "I am just giving you a warning." 

With a pensive, stern, but eternally warm (or at least warm when cast in her direction) expression. Then, without any hesitation or hint of eagerness, he reached back to his quiver and slid out a beautiful, golden arrow. "Here," he said, holding it out. "Take it." 

"Fine." Niphrediel grinned and took the arrow, testing the tip of it with the brim of her thumb. 

"Now, this is my _favourite_ arrow," he stressed in mock-seriousness. "Do not get too happy, however, for you best be prepared to give it back when I come back. And be honoured; that is a mighty-fine arrow there; the greatest, in fact. I am jealous just looking at you. You better take good care of it." 

Niphrediel nodded keenly. "I will, I will." Niphrediel smiled before glancing in the direction they had entered from, and felt her shoulders slump as she knew their time was coming to an end. 

"You best depart, Legolas," she said quietly, not proud of the fact. 

"I know," he said sadly, but not with such gravity as Niphrediel. He sighed, and turned around, preparing to walk off, before glancing back at Niphrediel with an almost curious stare. "Do not feel alone in your fear," he stated softly, before giving a beautiful, but still shy, smile, then turning his face and body away to move off; his stride smooth in the graceful pulse of his entire body. 

"Niphrediel?" Éowyn called from behind the entrance of the Glittering Caves, rather confused. 

"Yes?" Niphrediel replied quickly, turning Éowyn's way; clasping the arrow in her hand tightly like a lifeline. 

"Come on," Éowyn nodded, "Come inside." 

Niphrediel nodded, and walked towards her and the caves beyond. 

* * *

**Note:**

Holy moly, this chapter was so difficult. I wish I could blame my exams entirely, but though I have been doing a horrid load of studying, I could've worked my time a little more smartly to get this chapter up sooner. Oh well.

Alright, plans. I have finally decided that I'm not going to throw Niphrediel into the third book—hell, I wasn't planning for her to go too into the second one for crying out loud. The reason for this is because the story comes along after all the 'War of the Ring' stuff has finished. Niphrediel will be able to grow up a bit, and her past and her rather mysterious parentage will come into it to. Don't forget the romance stuff, which I have outlined already. Also, before everything starts getting a move on, Niphrediel's relationships with certain individuals have to be properly established. Sounds boring when I say it that way, but I'm sure there are a couple girlies out there gagging for some eventual Legolas/Niphrediel stuff to come up, which, I promise, WILL be coming. Just don't expect all happy-happy joy-joy stuff, however—I doubt any romantic relationship between a human and an elf would be so bright. Hey, that's part of that's part of the reason Immortal/Mortal relationships have fascinated me so much. Wow, I'm blabbering... I'll shut up now.

Oh! R&R ;)


	13. Chapter twelve: Season of Change

**Chapter twelve: Season of Change**

*********

*********

*****

_"Théodred?"_

_What a vision. He looked so healthy. He looked so alive. His eyes still shone with stars that she was once so convinced would never, ever dwindle, no matter the season; and his face was still so innocently handsome she had to stare at it for a moment, memorizing every single curve and crevice so she would never forget his beauty; not even when she was as old as the sky was grey. Not time nor circumstance would ever be able to tamper with her memory. Never._

_Théodred smiled. By the Valar, Niphrediel had missed that smile! "Aye?" he whispered. Even then, he still stared at her as if she was the most beautiful thing on the earth. How could Niphrediel not have noticed it before? Perhaps it was because he no longer hid it, or ceased to lower his eyes in embarrassment too quickly before she couldnotice._

_"I miss you," Niphrediel said, plain but grave, and disturbingly honest. She had to say it, and immediately felt better. _Please do not make this a figment of my imagination,_ she thought to herself, her tears but liquid pearls that left a trail of salted water as they rolled across her golden skin, a painful reminder that she could not repress the sadness inside her— like a bird in a cage with a door that could not close. _

_"You will overcome it," Théodred replied wisely; always with a smile. Niphrediel wanted to unleash unmeasurable fury on the being that wounded him. The creature that took him away from her; away from his cousins; away from his father— who he would have given anything to see healthy and no longer under the control Gríma; and away from his country that he loved so dearly._

_"Why did you have you have to leave?" Niphrediel asked. "You should have stayed, damn you."_

_"There was nothing you could have done to make me stay," he whispered gently, wiping a tear away as his stare upon her softened in pity and concern. He could see the blame that Niphrediel would place on herself for the occurrence of his demise, and it hurt him deeply to see it._

_"That is what hurts, Théodred," Niphrediel sighed. "I hate this…this state of helplessness I am in. I cannot do anything. I…I am completely powerless— but a tiny breeze in the shadow of a hurricane. I am…too small, too young, too weak."_

_"No, you aren"—_

_"Théodred, I need you," she pleaded. "I need you, damn it. Come back, please!" Niphrediel was crying easily now, and she hated every moment of it. "I…I will do anything you want— I will live in Rohan, I-I will take you to Bree or any other cursed place you wish to go, I will let you win when we spare!"_

_Théodred sobered immediately, and deep within the depths of those twinkling eyes, Niphrediel could see hurt. She was begging him to do the one thing he could not. "I would change the stars for you," he said, "I would forsake fate in your name… but…I cannot do that now. My time is over."_

_Niphrediel nodded, her bottom lip in the grasp of her teeth. "Everything would be so different if you had just lived. If you were still alive. If you were still here."_

_Théodred laughed; the sounds of him like waves of velvet lapping against Niphrediel's ears. "Why can you not understand?" he asked, in disbelief._

_Niphrediel frowned, "Understand what?"_

_"I have not gone anywhere!"_

_"Are you sure?"_

_Théodred nodded, "Positive." And that was when he began to fade. Or, perhaps it was Niphrediel who was fading and it was Théodred that remained. Niphrediel would never know. _

_"Théodred…" Niphrediel gasped, eyes wide in shock. "Make it stop," she said quietly, "Do not go."_

_Théodred just smiled brightly as his skin became translucent. "Stop worrying," he whispered, and leaned up to gently kiss her cheek; a bittersweet sense of finality in the way he moved. "Oh, and I love you, too," his arms tightened around her as he slowly became nothing but air, "more then you will ever know."_

_"Théodred, no!"_

_"Let it go, Niphrediel. Let it go."_

Light stung Niphrediel's eyes as they snapped open; and she quickly sat up. She had laid her head on the edge of the oak table; one of the only pieces of furniture in the keep that still remained unmoved. Niphrediel's head was heavy. She was so sick of being tired. She was so sick and tired of these dreams—with the exception of that last one, that had comforted her as much as it had pained her. 

What was wrong with her? She never felt so drained before, when she had not taken Gandalf's vile, of which had given her skin some solace. Niphrediel was beginning to feel more aware of that as she continued to ponder; and slowly she became somewhat troubled. Was something badly _wrong _with her? Niphrediel hoped not. 

Niphrediel placed her face in the embrace of her cold hands; wiping away the drying moisture of tears in the corners of her eyes that would inevitably become flakes of sleep if she did not wipe them away quickly. 

Niphrediel slowly stood from the wooden stool she sat on, and rubbed her cold hands on the thighs of her leather breeches. Her right hand could not stay too long on her leg, however, for it slowly came to gently clench the bicep of her left arm; where the sleeve of her black tunic kept the thick bandage wrapped snugly around the skin underneath from view. 

Niphrediel almost cursed at herself for her past momentary stupidity. She and Éowyn did not notice the small squad of Uruk-Hai that had sneaked into the caves, and because of that, Niphrediel had paid for it. Niphrediel hoped the bandage would last through the hour; Raewyn insisted on putting a layer of ointment on her wound every time the bandage needed changing and it stung like fire. 

Niphrediel pushed her tight plait back off her shoulder. She was surprised how fast her hair was growing, she would have much preferred it to have not done so— she did not have the energy to cut it, or get anyone else to in her place. 

She made her way through the doors of the keep and down the stairs, unable to keep her eyes from meeting the gazes of the wounded who were being treated in every corner of her vision. Niphrediel had to admit; when she heard the sound of the wall falling, she thought it was all over. She thought Saruman had won. She thought the forces of Helms Deep were no more— though, she had not known of the 'assistance' that had arrived soon after she had been dropped off in the caves for that matter. 

Éowyn stood at the floor of the stair; waiting for her. Her eyes glimmered in both sadness and joy; Niphrediel almost she did not have to speak to her. 

"So it true," Éowyn began, as if to herself, her solemn stare meeting Niphrediel's apprehensive one. "You are leaving." 

Niphrediel nodded once, coming to a stop but a mere three feet from the Rohirric lady. "I am," she said, slowly. What else could she say? There was nothing that came to mind. 

Éowyn shook her head, as if in disappointment. "Why now? Everyone is needed here— you are needed here." 

"I am not needed here," Niphrediel sighed, taking a step back. She did not want any confrontation, especially with her. There was really nothing Niphrediel could say to make her retreat less then admirable. 

"Yes, you are!" Éowyn exclaimed coldly. "I need you here. You are one of the only true friends I have— I _need_ you here." 

Niphrediel shook her head, staring at Éowyn as if she were mad. "I am no help here. There is too much risk for me if I stay." 

"How?" 

"I do not trust myself. I will do something stupid— with admirable motives and motivation, but nothing more— and get myself killed." 

Éowyn sighed and shook her head, "Niphrediel…"— 

"Éowyn…I am sorry, but…" Niphrediel sighed sadly as her stare shifted over the faces of unknown people who rested near and far. "This situation is too big for me." 

"That is not true, Niphrediel," Éowyn said firmly. 

Niphrediel shrugged, "Aragorn thinks so." 

"He does not," Éowyn countered. "He knows you are strong enough to stay and fight against this, but he will do anything to see that you are somewhere safe— you know this!" 

"Éowyn, I am homesick," Niphrediel stated firmly. "I want to go home. I want to rest under the trees that saw me grow and I want to wait. I am not a part of Aragorn's journey…he will do it himself." 

"Niphrediel, you a huge part of his journey, no matter where you are!" Éowyn murmured. "Why do you think he is doing it? Why do you think he is trying so hard?" 

"It is his destiny," Niphrediel replied. "He would be doing exactly this wether or not I existed. And, if I happen to be a part of his motivation to continue, then I will do him a great favour in doing what he says and returning to Rivendell. He will no longer have to worry about me." 

Then, Éowyn was silent. In some ways, it was worse then her shouting at Niphrediel. At least when she was speaking, Niphrediel could shake her head and disregard every meaning of every word. But, as Éowyn stared into her eyes with unhidden sorrow, Niphrediel could not ignore it. But, Niphrediel did know, that Éowyn somewhat agreed with her. Éowyn did know that it would be good for Aragorn to not have to worry about her getting hurt (or more hurt) by some unseen fiend. 

Éowyn embraced Niphrediel; her body still unfamiliar with giving and receiving such affection. She wiped a stray tear from her eye and raised her gaze to the sky. "I will miss you so very much." 

"Oh, believe me," Niphrediel chuckled. "The feeling is mutual." Niphrediel's smile began to dwindle, though, and her chuckle fell short, as she began to realise how true her words were. The hold she had on Éowyn tightened, and she fought back tears. By the Valar, she had become so damn emotional. 

Soon enough though, Niphrediel and Éowyn stepped back from each other, and both took a moment to wipe their eyes. 

"We will see each other after this, remember," Niphrediel said, in a means to make both Éowyn and herself feel a little better. "I will come back." 

Éowyn nodded, and though she was still sad, she smiled. "I know, I know. So…who is going with you?" 

"I do not know," Niphrediel replied. "A messenger maybe— one that is not fit for battle. I cannot be sure." 

_"Éowyn!" _came Éomer's voice from the barracks. _"Bring the bracers!"_

Éowyn sighed and waved her arm to her brother, before giving Niphrediel an apologetic smile, "Forgive me, I have to run. If…ah…if I do not see you before you leave; I adore you as I would a sister, and you best prepare yourself for a very lengthy visit you will be take after all this business is through." With that, Éowyn nodded and turned around before making for the garrison in a light jog. 

Niphrediel waved to Éomer, who bowed his head to her in response, before turning around and continuing on to the stables. 

There was no one there, which was somewhat strange. Niphrediel thought Raewyn and the children would be waiting there to bid her farewell at the very least. But, then again, Niphrediel was not going to be leaving for at least a half-hour; there was no rush to get her farewells done with. 

Niphrediel moved passed each horse stool til she came to the very last one; just right of where Shadowfax's stool was. 'Stogomaed' was printed on the stool door in black, bold painted letters, and Niphrediel nodded once. This was the horse Aragorn had told her of— the one that would be taking her home. 

Niphrediel smiled as she climbed up onto the wooden door. She was going home! Yes, she was somewhat disappointed at the concept, but by the Valar she was relieved, as well. No more homesickness, no more loneliness. Niphrediel leaned back against the wooden mast that the walls of the stools had been built about and sighed lightly. She was going to see Glorfindel again! 

Niphrediel was snapped out of her temporary reverie by the horse, Stogomaed, nudging her leg with his nose. She looked over to the chestnut steed, and patted the bridge of his snout with a smile. He reminded her slightly of Draconic—though, Draconic was not so friendly towards strangers, nor was Draconic disciplined enough to be so quiet around company. Draconic was a rather wild creature, which was part of the reason Niphrediel loved him so much. 

With a smile on her lips, Niphrediel parted her lips and began to quietly hum a caption of a song to herself. 

"_Warrior, how you journey_

_On the road you chose_

_To find out why the winds die_

_And where the stories go._

_All days come from one day_

_That you must know,_

_You cannot change what's over_

_But only where you go!_" 

"I did not know you could sing." 

Niphrediel almost jumped off the door of the stool in shock. She did not notice anyone enter the stables, blast her. She had been too busy humming to herself. Niphrediel was not embarrassed enough to blush though, thank goodness, and nodded to Legolas in acknowledgment. 

"Oh, I made you think that on purpose," Niphrediel grinned, shifting on the door. "I thought it best to save your ears from the horrible sound." 

Legolas snorted. "Folly," he said, walking over and jumping smoothly onto the other end of the door just opposite her. "Your voice is fine, for a _mortal._" 

Niphrediel laughed and kicked his booted foot with her own, "Pompous elf. Be careful or I will cut that pretty hair of yours." 

"Oh, no!" cried Legolas sarcastically, "anything but that!" 

"Yes, be afraid," Niphrediel quipped with a smile. "No one likes a bald elf." 

Niphrediel and Legolas laughed together, and Niphrediel could not help but imagine Legolas with a hairless head. _Knowing his luck, he would probably suit it,_ thought Niphrediel. 

"You will be leaving soon?" wondered Legolas, his brows raised. 

Niphrediel nodded. "Aye." 

"We all wish you would not," Legolas said. "Even Aragorn, albeit he is the one that has asked you to do so. He will miss you more then anyone else." 

Niphrediel smiled sadly and nodded. Legolas was probably right about Aragorn, and she was touched that Gimli and he wished she could remain with them. Niphrediel knew she would have to go though; she would only be a burden, and she did not want that. 

"It will be so strange," Niphrediel began dreamily, "when I come back after you three's adventure concludes. You probably shan't recognise me— or remember me, for that matter. You will be too greater heroes for that…no doubt." 

"Why, aren't you saying an awful lot of folly this morning?" Legolas punned with a soft smile. "Of course I will remember you. I only ran through the Mines of Moria whilst bruising the wrist of _one _lucky lady, did I not? And there is only one person on this earth, namely _you_, that has actually allowed me to sing an entire song to them without begging for my silence." 

Niphrediel laughed brightly and shook her head, "Do not be silly. I am being serious." 

"Well, so am I!" Legolas said, a little more seriously. "Besides, I have a brilliant memory, I will not forget a thing." 

"Very well," said Niphrediel with a shrug of her shoulders. 

"Are you afraid of leaving?" Legolas asked quietly, totally off the subject. 

Niphrediel nodded once. "Terrified." 

Legolas frowned. "Why?" 

"I wish I knew," Niphrediel answered, as honest as she could be. "I guess…if something bad happens, I want to be around to help. As Gandalf said, the battle for Middle Earth is about to begin. Aragorn will have to fight; you will have to fight; Gimli will have to fight. Everything will get worse. I want to be around for that. And, if something happens while Aragorn, or you, or whoever, is out there fighting, I would like to know that I said farewell." 

"I am not going to die," Legolas said again, as if it was an obligation. 

"Everything I love dies; do not be surprised if fate wishes to play another joke on me by killing you," Niphrediel muttered. 

"Fate is not that cruel," Legolas said, trying to be wry at the mention of an existence without him. 

"Fate murdered my father, my mother and nearly killed my brother. How can you be so sure?" Niphrediel replied, without a shred of malice in her tone."How long do you think it will be til we all see each other again?" she asked, strategically veering the subject away from such gloomy things. 

"I wish I knew for certain," Legolas said truthfully. "Months and months. Heck, even years. It all depends." 

"On what?" 

Legolas shrugged, "On everything," he grinned, pausing for a moment, " Niphrediel?" 

Niphrediel nodded, "Yes?" 

Legolas swallowed before beginning to speak. "What did the lady Galadriel say to you after we left; before you left for Rohan?" he asked, albeit with some reserve. "Aragorn knows, but he refuses to tell both Gimli and I. I know I should not ask— obviously it is private…but, uh, I cannot help but worry." 

Niphrediel's gaze darkened as she lowered it in thought for a long while. 

_'You have had dreams all your life. Though, never taking notice, you would have never thought them as visions,' _Niphrediel remembered; the sound of the Lady of Lorien echoing through her mind as if born anew. _'You see things. Naturally, since your bloodline has mingled somewhat, your visions are unclear compared to the ones of your forefathers.'_

"She…" Niphrediel frowned, "she said I could see things." 

Legolas perked up, "Foresight?" 

_'I do not speak of simple 'foresight'.'_

Niphrediel shook her head, "No, something else." 

Legolas's brows rose, seeming both in curiosity and surprise. "What did the lady call it?" 

Niphrediel closed her eyes as she searched her memory, the facts nearly forgotten. "I think she called it…vision, or something like that," she finally answered, her eyes opening. "She said it is a hereditary gift." 

"Oh?" Legolas was surprised. "Gilraen or Arathorn had this gift?" 

_'Gilraen feared it, as do you now.' 'Its your mother was given her first powerful vision on her father's day of birth, it is ritual.'—'Gilraen's birthday is not this day, I can assure you that.'_

Like a small spark that had rubbed up against a rock, a light came to life at the back of Niphrediel's head. She stared into a world unseen, her expression cold and blank. "No…No, they did not." 

"Must have been a generation gap or something, eh?" supposed Legolas, not noticing the grave expression on Niphrediel's face, nor the faraway look in her eye. "What kind of things can you see?" asked Legolas, too interested to keep his questions unspoken. 

Niphrediel's ponderings were put on hold as she shrugged, not too comfortable on the topic, and more likely then not trying focus on the most important one. _How can it be genetic if neither my mother nor my father had it? How could…. Gilraen and Arathorn…. They must be…_

"Niphrediel?" 

"Ah, I do not know. I do suppose that is how I spoke to Glorfindel, though. But, as you know, I have not tried seeing anything on purpose before. I do not care for the gift; I do not wish to use it," blurted Niphrediel, her concentration broken. 

"But you must!" Legolas gushed, leaning forward in eager conversation. "You have been given this gift, you should learn to use it." 

"I think that was what Lord Celeborn and the Lady Galadriel were trying to do," Niphrediel mumbled. "I believe if I had remained in their city, they would have taught me." 

_'As time goes on from this day forth, the call's will become more clear and will come more often and, if you learn properly, on command,' _whispered the memory of Celeborn's voice against Niphrediel's ear, sending a chill down her spine as she fought to keep her composure. 

"You should test it," Legolas said. "Practise." 

"No," Niphrediel countered quietly, uncomfortably remembering her strange vision of the nine birds. "I may see something I do not want to see." 

"So you are going to live your life without advancing this unique skill of yours?" Legolas asked her, amazed. 

Niphrediel nodded, "I suppose so, yes. If I happen to have a dream every now and then…that is fine with me since there probably would not be any way to bloke it off, but I will never take it upon myself to be able to probe at the things I am not supposed to see. I am no Sauron." 

"Fair enough," Legolas said with a nod. "It is a shame." 

"I know," Niphrediel agreed. "It is a waste. I will do no good with such a skill. It is wasted on me." 

Legolas shook his head, "No, it isn't." 

Niphrediel shrugged, before she began to ponder for a moment. "Legolas?" 

"What is it?" 

"Could you do me a favour?" 

Legolas nodded, "Aye." 

Niphrediel frowned as she watched Stogomaed eat some fresh hay. "Could you miss me?" Niphrediel shrugged, "Just a little bit." 

Legolas would have laughed, but he did not find her message funny at all. He shrugged his shoulders before nodding, his smile comforting if she just looked at him, "I think I could manage that." 

"Fantastic," Niphrediel said. 

"On one condition," Legolas quickly added. 

Niphrediel frowned, "Condition?" 

Legolas nodded, "Aye. You must resolve things with Arwen." 

"Pardon?" 

"When you leave. I think it was Glorfindel who told me of your unease around her… With all this… this madness, I doubt that could be any good for both of you. Do you accept the condition?" 

Niphrediel frowned, chewing on her bottom lip as if it was a horrible choice thing for Legolas to ask of her. "…Fine." 

"Good," Legolas smiled, before taking something out of his pocket; something compact enough for him to have been able to hold comfortably within a closed fist. 

Tilting her head absently to the side, Niphrediel's eyes narrowed, "What is that?" 

"A parting present," Legolas informed, displaying his closed hand to Niphrediel, as if waiting for her to open it. "There was no fine paper to wrap it in, I am afraid." 

With a shake of her head, the look Niphrediel shot at Legolas as she began unfolding his fingers was an incredulous one. "You are incredible," she mumbled, under her breath. 

"Why, thank you," Legolas smirked. 

"Oh, shush." Niphrediel rolled her eyes before taking down Legolas's last finger, and turning her gaze downwards to the trinket that lay in his upraised palm. 

There, settled on his fine skin, bound by a chain of leather bound, was the slightest crystal phial, shaped blandly to be somewhat alike a perfume bottle, filled up to it's cork with seeds the same shade of pollen. 

"What in the Valar…?" 

Laughing at Niphrediel's reaction, Legolas placed the leather bound around her neck, so that the phial jingled contentedly against her whistle— which Niphrediel had never taken off. "They are seeds," he said. 

Niphrediel snorted, "I know that, Legolas. I am not that thick." 

Again, Legolas laughed, "They are niphredil and simbelmynë seeds." 

Niphrediel's cynical smile fell, and her eyes brightened, "You jest!" 

"I do not! I gathered the niphredil seeds before we left Lorien, and the alfirin ones in Edoras." 

Niphrediel let out a long sigh, and brought a hand to the phial, "You should not have bothered," she said, grateful. 

"Bah," Legolas brushed Niphrediel's words off with a shrug of his shoulders, "Do not be stupid. It is from all of us; not just me!" 

"Psssh, the elf lies!" 

Niphrediel and Legolas turned their heads around to see Gimli standing at the door, his hands closed into fists on his hips. 

Beaming, Niphrediel tipped her brow to the dwarf, "Hello, Gimli!" 

Trudging over to where the two sat, Gimli's face shifted into a rather gentle smile in Niphrediel's direction, "Greetings, Aragorn child!" he moved a more wry stare over to the elf, and said: "Do not believe a thing this creature 'ere says. I was not involved in the seed gathering. Here is my gift!" Gimli held out a dull, old ring to Niphrediel; one made of some sort of metal, without a gem or stone, but with rather lovely— though unfortunately, fading— dwarvish markings carved into the band. Though it was shaped in a perfect circle, Niphrediel suspected it was once a small buckle. 

"Oh, thankyou, Gimli!" Niphrediel said, taking the ring and placing it on the only finger that could comfortably wear it; her thumb. "It is lovely." 

Shifting on his footing, Gimli coughed back something at the back of his throat, as his cheeks got a little brighter. "W-well Aragorn told me you always had an interest in Dwarvish culture, so…." 

Niphrediel nodded, "I do, indeed!" she smiled. 

"An interesting choice. Come, everyone has arrived to send you off," Legolas said, before they all began making their way out of the stables, to Aragorn and a company of assorted friends— Raewyn and the children under her care, Éowyn and Éomer, and Maerhelm; the herald that was to escort Niphrediel home. 

After enough time to bid proper farewells to all that had come to see her off, Niphrediel and Maerhelm left the sanctuary of Helms Deep upon their assorted mounts. Niphrediel and Aragorn's parting was short but meaningful, with Niphrediel receiving a kiss on her crown ere she warned Aragorn of his penalty if ever he was to take a trip off a cliff again. All too soon after, however, Niphrediel was planted on her horse, with Maerhelm beside her, and began to set off. 

Niphrediel could still hear the screams of Rivanon as she rode through the dented gates, and regardless how hard she tried to ignore it— she could not. 

_"Caeleb!" _the boy screamed. "_Caaaaeleb! Caeleb!"_

Niphrediel looked down onto the neck of her horse and could not stop her shoulders from trembling as she began to cry. Behind her stood one half of her unconventional family, watching as she left for safety while they remained in the dark. 

"Get ready for a long trip," Maerhelm said beside her, with a small smile on his rather handsome face. "Let's gives these great creatures a chance to test their legs." 

With a small nod in response, Niphrediel nudged the sides of Stogomaed with her heels and followed Maerhelm's own horse, Éodo, into a heavy sprint. Niphrediel could not help but look over her shoulder at the fort that slowly began to shrink in size, and she felt her eyes swell even more as she realised exactly how much of her heart and soul she was leaving there. 

"Keep them safe, Nienna," Niphrediel turned around, and forced herself to only look back when she was positive that she could no longer see the fortress of stone. 

* * *

"Maer?" 

"Uh huh!" 

"Lift me up!" 

"I have already tried. You are too fat." 

"Hush your mouth!" 

"Hehe, I only jest!" 

"I know you do, fool. Now, lift me up!" 

"Yes, your royal highness! Up you go!" 

"And be quiet at that—what are you trying to do? Wake up the entire house?" 

"Oh, darn it, Niphrediel. You have uncovered my terrible plan." 

"Urgh, shut up and lift me up." 

"I am!" 

Niphrediel jumped from Maerhelm's shoulders and quickly grabbed hold of one of the posts of the terrace's failing. Ignoring Maerhelm's quiet laughter at her unique technique of climbing up as she began to pull herself up, Niphrediel could not help giving him a little kick in the head. 

Needless to say, over the month or so that they had been travelling together, Niphrediel and Maerhelm had become rather good friends. It was bound to happen, what with them being in the same prime of life (or so Niphrediel had guessed—judging by their similar level of physical and mental maturity) and two good breeds of persons. Over the days together, Niphrediel had adjusted to Maerhelm's sense of humour, and Maerhelm had become familiar with Niphrediel's sarcasm. They were a great travel companions, even though they regularly felt the urge to punch each other at times. 

Maerhelm fell back onto the ground behind him with a yelp, but though Niphrediel grinned and could not help but cackle quietly to herself, she did not stop moving. With a final heave and a small jump, Niphrediel made it over the railing and onto the terrace. 

"Success," Niphrediel whispered silently to herself with a breath of relief before she began to sneak forward towards the pretty silver-trimmed doors on the other side. As Niphrediel had predicted, the curtains were drawn. 

_Excellent, _thought sneaky Niphrediel as she silently twisted the slender doorhandle of the door and nudged it open as slowly as she possibly could. 

"Glooorfindel?" Niphrediel sung quietly, stepping into the tidy room. She calmly looked over it; the simple bed, the immaculate desk, and the beautifully made pieces of furniture placed here and there. _By the Valar, _thought Niphrediel with a smirk, _he has not changed a thing._

Niphrediel frowned as she came to the end of her search. He was not there. "Curses," Niphrediel muttered under her breath with shoulders sunk in defeat. "He is not here." 

Just as she spoke, a pair of slender arms came around her shoulders from behind and the sound of a laugh was emitted near her left ear. "Nieninquë!!!" 

"Glorfindel!" Niphrediel cried, before turning around and leaping up into the arms of her elvish friend, automatically feeling her heart soar. 

"By the Valar!" Glorfindel gushed aimlessly, holding Niphrediel so tight it was a struggle to breath. "What are you _doing _here?!" he finally asked, releasing her from his tight grasp. "Why are you not in Lorien?" 

Niphrediel beamed, shaking her head. "It is a long story!" she exclaimed. 

_"Niphrediel?" _came Maerhelm's yell from beyond the terrace. _"How am I supposed to get in?"_

"Through the door, fool!" Niphrediel yelled back with a small laugh and a shake of her head. "He is so silly," she said, rolling her eyes. 

"By me…" Glorfindel shook his head, oblivious to anything Niphrediel happened to say; as if in his own little world as he stared in wonderment at her face. 

"What is it?" Niphrediel asked, when she finally noticed his 'fascination'. 

Glorfindel smiled, "Your…your skin!" he said. "It is so dark!" 

Niphrediel nodded brightly. "The Lady and Lord of Lorien healed me!" 

"Oh?" 

Niphrediel nodded once more, "Though, they never said anything about it. I knew it was true." 

Glorfindel chuckled and patting Niphrediel on the shoulder, "That is fantastic, Nieninquë. Absolutely fantastic. Ivanneth will be ecstatic to hear that. " 

"Oh, yes!" Niphrediel declared, "How is my naneth? Is she well, sad, happy—neither sad nor happy? You must tell me, I must know!" 

"She is fine, Niphrediel," Glorfindel answered quickly with a chuckle. "Though, she will be much greater then that when she discovers that you have returned home to us!" With that, Glorfindel gave Niphrediel another hug, letting her linger in his arms for a moment. 

"Much has changed in you," Glorfindel mumbled under his breath, his chin against her forehead. "More then just the hue of your cheeks." 

"Aye," Niphrediel said back to him, her tone uncertain. 

With a nod, Glorfindel took a step back, and took her gloved hands in his. "You look exhausted," he said with a smile, "Go wash up in your quarters; you haven't been gone long enough to have forgotten the way." 

"But, Maerhelm"— 

"I will see to him," countered Glorfindel. 

"But, I would like to see Ivanneth and Elrond"— 

"You can do that after you have had some rest!" Glorfindel interrupted. "Get washed, smell fresh, put on a nightgown and go to sleep. We will talk again in the morning." 

Niphrediel smiled and nodded once. She was so relieved to be _home— _there was truly no place like it on the earth. "Very well," she said. "I will see you in the morning." 

"You bet your life, you will," Glorfindel said with a grin, before he began leading her to the door out into the corridors Niphrediel knew so well—just never under the light of day. Then, as he went left, and she went right; they separated. 

Niphrediel was amazed; the halls felt so foreign under the mild light of day. Pushing back thoughts of bathing due to exhaustion, Niphrediel decided, instead, to make her way to her bedchamber instead of heading to the lagoon. 

Niphrediel awoke to the sound of a fist gently tapping against the wood of her door. She refused to move, unconsciously trying to convince herself that she had heard nothing to force herself back into the comforts of heavenly sleep, of which seemed the most glorious she had ever had—with nights on hard rock floors to compare it to. 

_"Niphrediel?" _It was Glorfindel. Curses_, _thought Niphrediel, letting out a little groan in defeat. _"Forgive my interruption, I just came to tell you to go to see Elrond in his study when you are ready for the day. Uh, yes…I will let you go back to sleep now!" _

Niphrediel listened to Glorfindel's humming as he leisurely moved further and further away from the door, silently cursing at him with the knowledge that, despite her efforts, her mind was beyond the borders of sleep. Drawing out her movements as long as she possibly could, Niphrediel took her time getting out of her bed, and making her way to the lagoon—which she had never, ever been able to see under the light of day. Niphrediel scrubbed a month of travel from her skin with a hard brush, and made up for the several months of neglect that had been dealt to her hair with layer upon layer of soap and the finest creams she could find. 

She spent near to two hours washing every part of her body, and Niphrediel could not help but sigh in happiness, for she had never felt so clean in her entire existence, and the feeling was positively superb. When she eventually took leave of the lagoon, she dressed herself, and was almost disturbed to find that the waistbands of her leggings were but an inch too small for her. Niphrediel frowned and looked down at herself. Her hips must have expanded a little, Niphrediel concluded, though she could not see the change, and came to believe more-so that her clothing had shrunk. 

Taking up a rather ornate green robe, of which Niphrediel knew was a new arrival to her mount of unworn clothing, she nonchalantly buttoned it up over her undergarments. Leaving her hair, of which had grown remarkably so since the last time she had seen herself in front of her mirror, unclasped, Niphrediel then shoved on a _fresh _pair of slippers and felt joy each time she took a step; which eventually took her from chamber. 

She continued to take her time; she had never been able to see every detail of every corridor and every hall of the house before. Never had she able to stand by each window, feeling the rays of the gentle sun kissing her cheeks through the stain glass. Having the ability to do so made the moment something almost surreal in Niphrediel's eyes. 

Eventually, she did make her way to Elrond's study and, despite herself once more, could not help but bear butterflies in her stomach, of which stirred a brew of anxiety within her. She stood up straight and smelt her breath, knowing well that she had brushed and cleansed her mouth out nothing more then ten minutes beforehand, hoping that she had not changed too much and that he would not have changed either. 

Taking in a quick breath of air, Niphrediel then knocked thrice on the door. 

_"Enter, Niphrediel," _came Elrond's request from the other side, and with a small cough to clear her throat; Niphrediel opened the door and stepped through into the study beyond. Niphrediel had to say, it looked much cosier at day rather then night. 

Elrond, as Niphrediel had hoped, had not changed…save that his expression was much more grave then last Niphrediel had seen it, but nothing more. Perhaps he had some pressing matters to attend to; Niphrediel could not guess what had influenced his demeanour so. 

"Come, sit," said the lord, shuffling a scroll he had placed on the side of his desk whilst waving at the chairs before him, inviting Niphrediel to settle herself on one of them. 

"Ah, thankyou," replied Niphrediel to the offer, moving over to the nearest chair to seat herself down in one of them. 

For a moment or so, Elrond just stared at her; a smile in his eyes, if not on his lips. "You look…" no words seemed to be able to express his thoughts, as Elrond just shook his head; all signs in his expression and eyes giving clue to Niphrediel that he was not disgusted at what he saw, "so healthy!" 

It was more Elrond's joy then his words that made Niphrediel smile, and though the slightest hint of glow came to her cheeks; it did not last long enough to turn the flesh pink. "Thankyou," Niphrediel said, as if there was no other word in her vocabulary. 

Elrond smiled and tipped his head, as if to say it was no trouble for him to have said so. "How have you been, little Gwilwileth?" Niphrediel cherished the sound of her alias on Elrond's tongue; she had not realised how much she had missed the word in her absence. 

"Tired, my lord," Niphrediel answered with a sigh. "The journey home was a long one." 

"Indeed," Elrond nodded, as if he were there with her and Maerhelm as they travelled, and injured all that they did. "I have no doubt you wish nothing more then to relax, no?" 

Niphrediel simply nodded. "Aye," she said. 

"Well I just want to ask a few questions, and then you can go and reacquaint yourself with this old home," Elrond said, sitting back in his chair with his hands joined before him; an almost defensive stance. "What did the lady Galadriel tell you in Lorien? I understand your stay there was interrupted." 

Niphrediel shuffled in her chair, automatically uncomfortable. "She told me I could see things," she replied plainly, trying to keep as much detail from her words and thoughts as possible. 

Elrond's expression grew dark. "She told you nothing else?" he asked quickly, dread in the brooks of his voice. "Nothing of your mother?" 

Niphrediel frowned and leaned forward, "What about my mother?" she asked, somewhat firm. 

Niphrediel's question seemed to answer Elrond's question, for he gave a long sigh and closed his eyes in thought, his head absently shaking as if he was disappointed at something. After a moment or so, Niphrediel realised he was not going to answer her question, and took the fact in stride, settling back into the cushion of her chair. 

"That will be all, Gwilwileth," Elrond said, his eyelids drawing away from his great grey eyes, and a forced smile shinning beautifully from his tense mouth. "Go, make your greetings with all who have yet to see you." 

Recognising the joviality in Elrond's voice as somewhat feigned for her behalf, Niphrediel's departure from his study was a slow, reluctant one; though as she closed his door behind her and turned away from it, she could not help but feel somewhat relieved he had not told her to stay and expressed his sudden troubles with her. Niphrediel sensed that whatever heaviness had invaded the lord's thoughts would do the same to her, and she had enough troubles plaguing her mind without the entry of a new one. 

It was as she crossed the courtyard path of marble, framed by two rows of tall red-leaved trees in direction of the garden that Niphrediel saw Maerhelm talking to Glorfindel and Ivanneth on the grass. 

"Our journey was a long one, but a good one!" Maerhelm gushed to the two elves, his handsome face bright and smiley, like a child waiting for presents. 

"You must be very brave," Ivanneth said, sincerely. "The lands far from the Elvenhomes are no longer safe." 

"Indeed," Glorfindel said, his hand coming up to pat Maerhelm on the back. "We thank you for keeping Niphrediel safe on her way home." 

Maerhelm seemed to find Glorfindel's comment funny. "I had to, sir," he said. "She would have beat me if I let anything happen to her!" 

Niphrediel saw the moment as a suitable opportunity to enter the conversation, so gathering a bit of her robe at her hip, she swept forward. "You bet I would!" she said to Maerhelm, moving beside him and nudging his side with an elbow. 

Ivanneth smiled and stepped forward to squeeze the hand of Niphrediel. "Oh, my little Niphredil," she said softly. "We have missed you terribly." 

"Speak for yourself. If you asked me, I would say another month or two would not have hurt," Glorfindel punned with a wink. Niphrediel did not even need to glare. "Besides, Ivanneth," Glorfindel spoke on, oblivious, "Look at her! She is hardly a little anything now!" 

"Hush your mouth," Ivanneth smiled affectionately, looking at Niphrediel with collected eyes, "It does not matter how big she grows; she will always be our little Niphrediel." 

"Little Niphrediel," Maerhelm echoed beside Niphrediel, his face becoming bright as he attempted to keep his giggles quiet with no avail. He was quickly replied to with a punch in the arm— from Niphrediel, of course, who was not too amused. 

The rest of the day went quickly, and it was with the coming of the night that a feast (of a homely size of course) was prepared by Annabon as her own quiet celebration of Niphrediel's return. It was also then that Niphrediel saw her. Arwen. Her stare was distant and dim; and her mouth was grim and pale, even though it remained ethereally beautiful, like the rest of her form, which made it seem as if it had been a long series of grey, unhappy years since she had smiled. 

Rather then avoiding Arwen's stare out of habit, Niphrediel found herself averted eye contact with her out of her own unease. The Evenstar's notice of her presence was blatant, though Niphrediel tried her hardest never once acknowledged it, and not without her own punishment, of course. 

The elleth had innocently stole Niphrediel's appetite and whatever passion for conversation she had mustered up, whilst never once letting her eyes linger on a different view. Perhaps it was not the fact that Arwen was staring at Niphrediel that made deny its existence, but more the affection and adoration that was within her stare. Niphrediel did not want to see it. Her rival was not supposed to care for her! 

Despite Niphrediel not taking part in any conversations that happened to arise at the table, she was happy knowing that Maerhelm was making up for her silence. Indeed, the herald charmed every single edhel and elleth that who had attended— which was most of the population of Elrond's household. Niphrediel watched Maerhelm flutter from one pun to another, with somewhat of a gleam in her eye. 

Yes, sometimes Niphrediel wished he would somehow forget how to speak, and wanted to lash out with a sword to end his whining and whinging, but, ultimately, he was a good friend; a real friend. He was one of those special people that would take an arrow for their comrade: a trustworthy, loyal person. 

It was when the music began and the elf folk began dancing that Elrond patted Niphrediel's shoulder and leaned over to whisper something into her ear. 

"Come to my study," he said. "I have something to talk to you about." 

With less then a nod, Niphrediel stood from her chair and began to follow Elrond out of the hall and through the corridors to his study. She was not worried or overly anxious at all. 

"What do you want to speak to me about, my lor"— 

"_Adar."_

Niphrediel grinned, and nodded, "What do you want to speak to me about, _adar_?" Niphrediel walked to a halt in front of the chairs before Elrond's desk, resting her against its wooden frame, watching the lord walk to the western window and look out from it; capable of reaching sights Niphrediel could only dream of. 

Niphrediel shuffled uncomfortably where she stood. She had not been bothered by his distance, for Glorfindel has always said he had been so since the passing of Celebrían, and it was all Niphrediel knew for him to be— but the expression upon his face was an exceptionally daunting one. Niphrediel could almost smell his dread from her place before the chair, as if it where a toxic chemical that tainted the air. 

"Adar?" Niphrediel frowned, as her question when unanswered and silence settled upon the room like a cold frost. "What is the matter?" 

With a long sigh, Elrond gradually came to reply. "I do not want to say," he says. "I do not know how to explain this. I do not know how to say this in a way that will not…. hurt you." 

With a short hesitation, Niphrediel shrugged her shoulders; as if to completely shrug off Elrond's words— which she absolutely had not. "Do not bother, adar," Niphrediel offered. "Just come out with it." 

Elrond's eyes slowly trailed down. Despite the loveliness of the gardens that could be clearly seen from the window, his eyes seemed to prefer the floor. "Once, in Gilraen's day, there was this… this tiny village off the borders of Eriador"— 

Elrond's tale was disturbed as Glorfindel and Ivanneth walked through the door into the study, two dark expressions coming across their gentle faces as they saw Niphrediel, as if knowing, without need of words, what was happening. 

Elrond nodded to them, before continuing on as Glorfindel and Ivanneth moved over to stand behind his desk, like daunting statues, waiting to pity Niphrediel's doom as Elrond attempted to bare it. 

"After Numenor sunk beneath the sea and those loyal to the Valar fled into the lands of Eriador in numerous clans, one group in particular— the tiny village I spoke of— made their settlement beyond the borders of Eriador, just within the woods of Greenwood the Great. 

"It was a great village, and the Dúnedain that settled there were a harmonic-living folk. They eventually converted the village into a… chiefdom and those that inhabited it decided to give such responsibility to their finest son," Elrond cleared his throat as something lodged itself at its rear. Looking to Glorfindel for help, Elrond lowered his head to the floor and became silent. 

Pretending he had not seen Elrond's request, Glorfindel turned his head to the wall, unwilling to comply. 

"…His name was Farintar Herontil," said Ivanneth, with a lengthy sigh, knowing quite well that if she did not speak then the silence that would settle upon the room would not be broken. Her eyes moved til they connected with Niphrediel's, and unlike Elrond's, they did not move nor flicker. She even managed a smile; the beauty of her face making her false animation seem less forced. 

"He was a fine leader, even though he was given the title at a very young age, especially in their standards. He married a maid a decade afterwards," Ivanneth smiled, "The entire village was shocked when they actually wed." 

"Why?" Niphrediel frowned, becoming lost in Ivanneth's words. 

"Well… she was mute," Ivanneth said, "She was lovely, though, but I suppose the citizens would have expected Farintar to have given favour to another. The people learnt to accept her eventually, and they began to have children after a year or so."— 

"What was her name?" 

Ivanneth's brows raised, "Whose name?" 

Niphrediel nodded her head, "His wife." 

Perhaps Niphrediel should not have asked. Ivanneth's almost animated expression melted, and Niphrediel saw a dent form in Ivanneth's apparent confidence as she shrugged, almost uncomfortable. 

"There is no telling of it," Ivanneth finally answered at length, a nervous shake in her voice that only began to dissipate as carried on. "But it _is _told that Farintar referred to her as 'Ravenstone' after the birth of his first son." 

Niphrediel's hands squeezed each other as a shiver ran down her spine, feeling more like a dull sting than a tingle. 

_'Fly dear raven.'_

Gandalf's words reran through her memory. Though Niphrediel had thought his words nothing but strange, she had seldom had the chance to ponder what meaning was in his… strange endearment. Right then, with Ivanneth, Glorfindel and the Lord Elrond, a cold sweat descended on the nap of Niphrediel's neck, and her skin thus in contact with it began to pale. 

"Why did you send for me?" The politeness in Niphrediel's tone was overtaken by her alarm; bells ringing in corners of her mind that she had no comprehension of. She turned to Elrond, jaw clenched and teeth set as if marred by anger, instead of trepidation. 

"Just listen to the story, Gwilwileth," said Elrond; his unblinking eyes unmoving from whatever mystical had drawn him to the distance. 

"Relax, Nieninquë," whispered Glorfindel. 

Niphrediel glanced to the door, but could not find the strength to move for it. And so, she lowered her head in defeat and forced herself to listen. 

"They…ah," Ivanneth shuffled with unease, "At the near destruction of Greenwood, and the growth of the dark forces of the Woodland Realm…They and those of their village were slaughtered during the night."— 

"Well, that is a lovely story," Niphrediel piped up, seeing an opportunity for sarcasm that could, perhaps, be her ticket to the door and her own rooms. "The last bit, I think, may need some altering. If you intent to tell it to children, at least"— 

"Niphrediel, stop babbling," came Glorfindel's mutter. 

"I do not mean to babble, only comment," Niphrediel replied. "A fairytale has been told, the least I could do is offer some constructive criticism." 

Ivanneth grasped Niphrediel's arm desperately, "It is no fairytale!" 

"Think what you will," Niphrediel shrugged Ivanneth's hand away and took a step back. "Nevertheless, I do not think anything that has been said could not have been spoken over idle dinner conversation. You did not have to wish an audience with me to tell me stories." 

"Niphrediel…. he….he…."— 

"Glorfindel, _tell _her!" hissed Ivanneth, becoming frustrated with his stammering. 

"I…I…cannot!" Glorfindel closed his eyes and turned around, his back to them all. "I cannot say it!" 

"Ivanneth, please!" Niphrediel pleaded. 

Ivanneth looked to Elrond, "My lord?"— 

"Ivanneth, say it!" Glorfindel yelled. 

"Glorfindel, I cannot!" 

"I cannot mind this," Niphrediel shook her head with a sigh, "Speak to me when you have sorted this out amongst yourselves." Niphrediel turned and began to walk to the door, not noticing the tears welling in Ivanneth's eyes, nor the lather of moist gathering about Glorfindel's own. 

The two elves continued to throw exclamations back and forth amongst themselves as Niphrediel neared the door. Glorfindel and Ivanneth always used to argue and bicker to each other; Niphrediel had become accustomed to it at a young age and knew better then to wait for them to stop. Little did she now… 

Her hand cradled the golden doorhandle and carefully turned it open. Her foot even took a step forward, the distance to freedom a mere second away. But then, almost with the flicker of an eye, a silence embedded itself on the lips of Glorfindel and Ivanneth, and only Elrond was saved from the muteness. 

"Farintar Herontil is your father." 

There it was; the fact that had overshadowed Niphrediel's entire life… the fact that had plagued Gilraen's mind to her last living day. It was the truth that had made Niphrediel's very existence nothing but a lie. 

Niphrediel's entire body tensed. Despite her greater will, she could not move an inch. Yet, somehow, she managed to turn her head, and look to Elrond. To him her eyes were cold, frightened, possibly horrified, and immensely wounded. Elrond could tell what thoughts were entering her mind as she stood there in silence, wondering what to say, wondering what to believe. He knew, and he pitied her. 

"You lie!" she hissed at him, a tear or two clouding her eyes that glared him right in the face, as if the warrior inside her could change truth to untruth. 

Elrond turned from the window, his arms out as if to embrace. He shook his head, "No, I do not." 

Niphrediel looked away from him, as if his very image disgusted her. She then moved her stare to Ivanneth, and there her eyes pleaded with hers for false truth. "Ivanneth…" her voice came out as a plea and a whimper, not a hard, firm, sort of monotone that Niphrediel was striving for. 

"Niphrediel, I am so sorry, I…" Ivanneth shook her head, and could say no more, pressing her hand to her mouth to gargle her sob. 

For a moment, Niphrediel closed her eyes and bit down on her lip, a mere inch from breaking down into a fit of tears. But no, using what will she had left she fended of the harsh temptation, and kept herself calm enough to keep her reasonably settled. She refused to cry. She refused to let them see her weep, or grieve for things that were never hers to begin with. 

Copper fled into her mouth disguised as a scarlet liquid as one of her teeth pierced the inside of her bottom lip, and her eyes were tainted red as her eyelids moved high to bare them to the world. Perhaps she should have kept her eyes closed. The world in her mind was more hospitable there. 

"Glorfindel?" Niphrediel had gathered enough poise for her voice to appear somewhat callous, and she hoped that no one in the room could see her chest heaving up and down with each quick breath. She hoped they could not hear her heartbeat, even though it sounded like small bombs going off in her own ears with each damned beat. 

Glorfindel did not have to speak; his eyes spoke in his place, but he did anyway. "I… It…I…" he stopped, and shook his head. What little he had said had confirmed what reply he would have given if his mouth had been more articulate at his hour of need. 

"…Gilraen?" 

That time, Niphrediel received no reply. The meaning was simple: Gilraen was not her mother. Hence….. Aragorn, son of Gilraen, was not her brother— nor of any other sort of relation. Niphrediel had not become an orphan over time; she had beem born one. Her mother… was not her mother. Her brother— her hero— was not her blood; not her family; not her anything. She was not his sibling. She was his unrelated obligation. 

She was utterly, unquestionably and unchangeably… alone. 

_Get out, _the little voice inside her head was crying, manipulating Niphrediel's eyes to make it seem as if the room was becoming smaller and smaller, spinning around her in a blurry haze of walls and faces. She had to get out. She could not breath. _Get out, get out, get out, get out, get out, GET OUT!_

Niphrediel did not bother to say another word. Wether she had known it or not, she had held her breath; and by the time she began to breathe again, she was panting. 

She rushed out of the study, running from those it contained. She strode through the corridors, refusing to run— as if doing so would make her weak; the rabbit fleeing from the cobra. 

As soon as the doors to the veranda closed behind her, and Niphrediel decided she was truly home free, she gave herself permission to run. She ran across the paved path into the harsher depths of the garden, oblivious to the stray branches that nicked her face as she rushed passed with no mercy. 

Further and further she went into the darkness, til her legs could move no more and her cheeks were pale and whipped to their ends by countless intolerant twigs. Brought to her end, she collapsed onto her knees upon damp, cold, and strangely soft grass, looking to the monument that loomed over her. 

"You lied to me." 

It took Niphrediel a while to realise the voice that whispered was her own, and the beads of water that fell down her cheeks were not raindrops. 

Gilraen's face looked down at her. Despite the features that were nothing like hers' when she was alive, Niphrediel identified with the white marble that had been carved to crown the grave. Her arms were open, and with the pallid eyes gazing down, Niphrediel was almost certain Gilraen was looking straight at her. 

"Liar!" Niphrediel screamed in rage, gripping the grass with tight fists. "Why didn't you tell me?!" 

"She was going to." 

Niphrediel tensed, and her tears stopped— if only for a moment— and her tongue nervously ran over her bottom lip. "Go away, Arwen." 

"You should know these things," Arwen said, her voice becoming louder and nearer. Niphrediel could feel her presence dominating her own. A tight knot crept into her chest. 

"Leave me alone," Niphrediel pleaded. "Please? Just….go." 

Arwen ignored her last words. "She was going to tell you, before she became ill. She even tried to a few times, but… I do not know, I suppose she could not say it to you." 

Fear shone in Niphrediel's gaze as she looked over her shoulder, capturing Arwen's attention. "Does Aragorn know?" 

Arwen paused for a moment before she nodded, "I believe he was told when he spoke privately with Lady Galadriel." 

Her answer was not a good one. Arwen watched Niphrediel's lip tremble and saw her turn her head as quickly as she could. Arwen watched with her own sadness, knowing Niphrediel did not want her to see her cry. 

"Yet he… he did not tell me?" 

Arwen looked down and, in one graceful movement, she moved down and sat down beside the mortal. And, reaching out with an arm, she placed the slender limb around Niphrediel's shoulders. Arwen was almost shocked at her actions, she had not so much as patted Niphrediel on the back since she was nothing but a babe in a cot; back in the days when Arwen never felt a presence of unease and resentment when Niphrediel happened to be around her. 

What, perhaps, shocked the Evenstar more was that her gesture was not pushed— nor slapped, nor punched, nor any other such motion— away. Perhaps the girl's desire for compassion overpowered her past dislike of any of Arwen's obvious attentions. Arwen almost smiled as Niphrediel slumped back and her head rolled almost unconsciously onto her shoulder. 

"Why do you hate me?" Arwen asked quietly, soft and gentle, calling for Niphrediel to be honest— not guilty. 

Niphrediel shrugged. "I do not _hate _you," she said, and could not hear Arwen's sigh of relief, "I…am afraid of you." 

"Afraid of what?" 

"I… I… I do not know," Niphrediel said, her mind spanning on. Somehow her reasons and her explanations towards her dislike of the she-elf did not sound as intelligent and relevant as they had in the past when she would come up with excuses in her head to justify the way she felt about her. It annoyed Niphrediel to no end; Niphrediel's years of avoiding her was based pure stupidity and childish envy? "Afraid that one day I would be left behind. That Aragorn would leave with you and I would be left, alone." 

Arwen's hand unconsciously came to stroke the back of Niphrediel's head, as she had seen Gilraen do uncountable times when she had lived. So strange… she had always wanted to be in that place of Niphrediel's heart, the place of the motherly figure. That, undoubtedly, was the origin of her unspoken jealousy of Ivanneth. She had stolen that chance from Arwen; wether Ivanneth meant to or not. 

"But that would never happen!" Arwen could not stress the facts enough. 

Niphrediel shrugged, "Perhaps, but I cannot say for sure… And now, everything is different." 

Arwen's brows quirked, "What do you mean?" 

"Aragorn does not have to take care of me anymore," Niphrediel coughed back something she was certain was a sob, "He has no obligation to me. I have no family, no anything. I can see it now… if everything goes well and Aragorn goes to Gondor. People will know that Gilraen and Arathorn did not have a daughter. It is true… he was dead before I was conceived, no? He must have been. No amount of lies can change that." 

Gaze set to the distance; Arwen was silent for a moment, her mind occupied by thoughts and memories. "Then…. people will not be told that you are the daughter of Arathorn and Gilraen." 

"Oh?" Niphrediel nearly snorted, "No, I will tell people that I am the daughter of Farintar Herontil and hope to the Valar they do not ask my mother's name because I do not know it myself. That is a much better solution." Niphrediel's tone, obviously, did not agree. 

"You will tell them neither, then," said Arwen. 

Confusion invaded Niphrediel's cynical expression. "Then… what will I say?" 

Arwen licked her lips before replying, "You will say that you are Niphrediel, Gwilwileth of Imladris, Child of the Dúnedain, first daughter of Aragorn; son of Arathorn." 

Moving off her shoulder, Niphrediel looked to Arwen with wide eyes mixed with doubt and bewilderment. "And the mother in this scenario?" 

"You will call me mother. They will all assume I am actually that, without either of us having to say anything more of it. That way, we will not be lying…just simply giving each other kind endearments. You do not have to be of the same blood as someone to call them that, but they will all assume that is what we are, and…we will simply not correct them! I doubt any polite person would dare demand the truth of Aragorn, but as long as he says you are his then he will be nothing less then honest." 

Joy subtly seeped into Niphrediel's demeanour, but it was short lived. "You do not want me as your daughter," she said. 

Arwen said nothing, but drew Niphrediel in closer. Cherishing the first moment of open care she had ever experienced with the child she had watched grow from seed to blossom, harbouring sisterly— even motherly— fondness that she had been unable to express for years, Arwen planted a small kiss on the crown of Niphrediel's head. 

"Do not be stupid, of course I do," Arwen muttered, under her breath. "Understood?" 

Niphrediel wiped her cheeks and nodded, "Understood." 

"Very well then," Arwen said. "There will be no uneasiness between us from this day forth. I will talk to my father and every record, scroll, painting, or note that involves you or your parentage will be altered." 

"And… my real parents?" 

Arwen patted Niphrediel on the shoulder and gave it a small squeeze to comfort. "That will a secret between all of us. No one will know any different." 

Niphrediel smiled, but it could not last long despite her immense relief and joy of being able to bury old woes involving her and the elleth. In one night she had been given a great sorrow and a great mirth; a double-edged blade whose bittersweet sting had left a great wound and mark on her heart. 

For the better, though, from that day on Niphrediel grew to love and accept all aspects of the Evenstar. As each moment they spent together passed, she felt her distrust and jealousy over the elf fade, piece by piece, into nothingness. What fears she had of one day finding herself alone became something less then memory, and what suspicion she harboured towards the bounds of Aragorn's love became less fruitless. Arwen liked to think the transition of Niphrediel's character was maturity, but Niphrediel thought it more plausible that she was merely beginning to accept the truth. 

As time slowly went by, Niphrediel continued to dream. Mostly about Gilraen, for though Niphrediel could see why she had chosen to feed her lies, she still could not bring herself to forgive her. It was a long, but temporary wound— one whose healing was more painful then it's becoming. If her first mother was not present in her dreams, then it was usually subjects of either a lighter or darker breed that were. 

More often then not, it was the memories and presence of Aragorn. Sometimes they were her memories of him; while others were set in the present, where Niphrediel could see him battle-warn and weary. She did not try to speak to him, though, instead she just watched from afar. Though what ability she had been given to see her loved one held her and Arwen's thoughts of immediate peril in suspension, Niphrediel reminded herself that it was still nothing more then a useful bane. 

Using her inherited 'talent', Niphrediel was able to make sure that Aragorn was well. She even once saw Legolas as well, at Aragorn's side, his hand on his shoulder, with Gimli close behind. She became certain of her ability's status as a bane as she felt something tighten about her heart as she watched all three of them entering a fog of darkness, men with shadowed faces upon blurry horses following them afterwards. It was not fear of what they would face inside whatever misty realm her sight did not have the power to focus on, nor the worry or anxiety of their welfare— it was nothing less then longing. Niphrediel could not bear to say the words, but all who knew her well knew that, without a doubt, she missed them. To the point she could not bring herself to stop thinking about them, and thus had to search for any activity that could stimulate her imagination on another subject for even the smallest moment. 

Yet, despite the absence of folk who had become so close to her in a rather short time, Niphrediel's life finally had some sense of peace in it. 

As each month passed, the high artist of Rivendell's craft's guild, Círelas, created reproductions of portraits that had been painted when Niphrediel was a child. In some, Círelas was requested to paint Arwen in. Obviously, Undómiel was planning on taking the prints with them if ever word came that Aragorn's quest had been accomplished and he was made King of Arnor and Gondor— the Ring of Power destroyed in the process. Niphrediel supposed that with all the obvious signs declaring Arwen her biological mother (and hopefully with their lesser knowledge of elvish courtship) there would not be any queries regarding it. 

During the times when Niphrediel was neither being painted nor sleeping, she spent more time with Arwen who, wether Niphrediel knew it or not, began to influence some characteristics of her nature. Arwen even managed to get Niphrediel to stop despising dancing, and making music. Ever sharp-fingered and rough, Niphrediel imagined it was quite a struggle for Arwen and Ivanneth when they began teaching her to master flutes and harps, and she only truly noticed their positive manipulation when the cracks in her singing became less noticeable. _Less _noticeable mind. Not nonexistent. Sure, Niphrediel was never going to be a bard; but she did not sound like a blade against stone whenever she so much as hummed. 

Though Niphrediel would not want to admit it, the ellith were slowly making her more of a lady. Wether it was in her destiny or not, Niphrediel found herself wearing dresses more often and began enjoying the wanton feminine activities that she would never had partaken in a year prior. Thankfully however, spending time with Glorfindel's teasing and whining, and practising swordplay (which she eventually felt herself get rusty with— to her complete and utter horror) and talking horses with her Rohirric 'bodyguard' Maerhelm, Niphrediel kept herself in balance. Reunited with Draconic, Niphrediel, Maerhelm and Glorfindel would regularly take rides together if there happened to be enough time. 

"Do you like it?" 

Niphrediel's eyes trailed over the finely painted jaw line of the masterpiece's subject, her fingers absently doing the same to her own face. 

Círelas's brows rose in question, not knowing wether or not to take Niphrediel's gestures as a 'yay' or a 'nay'. "Well? I know, I know, it's…. rather small— but that-that-that is merely because it just a portrait of your face, see?" she pointed to it. "I thought maybe it would be good to have one that was not so… big. Perhaps it could be put on a mantelpiece or a shelf or a desk." 

Niphrediel bit her lip and grinned. She never liked the sight of her face on portraits or drawings or paintings. In her eyes she always looked either unattractive, overly chubby (or sometimes overly thin, depending on the artist), and her expression always looked either forced or nonexistent. That was probably one of the reasons she opted to pose without a smile. Her smile always seemed rather hideous on print. Her teeth were sometimes too big and her lips far too wide… Niphrediel hoped it was a slip of the brush that caused such results. 

"It's lovely," Niphrediel said, and gave a small laugh. She had received the first painting that did not depict her as a child. Though it did not bear the artistic interpretation of any part of her body from the neck down, Niphrediel had still received the only print that acknowledged that there was some chance that she happened to have breasts and other such womanly attributes. Niphrediel felt like writing up a sign and parading outside for all to see. 

Yes, Niphrediel was a child… But she was not enough of one to ignore the analysis of her physical maturity and, despite her own judgements of her general status as a child; Niphrediel felt the woes of adulthood forming before her eyes. Though she knew she was not ready to walk them for a long while, she realised acknowledged the changes that were developing before her eyes, preparing themselves for the day when she would be ready to undergo them. Though the day was not then, Niphrediel knew that one day she was going to have to let go and grow up. 

But that day was not with her yet. 

  


* * *

**Note:** Short, I know. Compared to most of the other chapters at least, but that's just because I'm getting everything set up for when the war is finished blablabla… road trip to Gondor blablabla… coronations/weddings blablabla…Elf/Mortal stuff blablablablabla… more birth revelations involving the Nephster (which will be quite dark and rather…erm…sad)… and… well… you'll just have to wait and see. ;) 

I'm gonna cut straight to the end of the War in the next chapter. Don't want to dwell to much on this where everything involving Neph is kind of in suspended animation since, as ya'll know, there's not much of a romantic sideplot when the two romantic leads are kind of….how should I put it…. a heck of a long way away from each other. Though, I _did _contemplate letting their relationship intensify via dreams— as Neph is gifted in the manner, and I'm sure he'd be somewhat able in that field to, being and elf and all, but I changed my mind; deciding it would be corny and the element of excitement revolving the chance of being caught wouldn't exist. Not to mention the troubles involving the feelings of those that care for them both would have towards another tragedy involving love between two separate species; the sensations that express that Legolas and Neph are breaking a great taboo. 

Hope I made the right choice, you'll have to tell me when the latter chapters come out (which they will, despite my apparent slowness to bring them out). Gah, I'm half-asleep. I'll stop babbling and upload this bloody thing. 

**OH!**

Thankyou _always_ to OverCastDay! And, of course, the others of you that happen to review… 

And another big ups to Kara–just for caring :) 


	14. Chapter thirteen: The Zephyr of Home

**Chapter thirteen: The Zephyr of Home**

*****

*****

***** _"Beren!!!"_   
__ Niphrediel jumped from Draconic's back, the weight of her gown and cloak suddenly insignificant to her tired shoulders as she tumbled onto her knees; armed outstretched to embrace the creature sprinting to her. Beren's coat gleamed in the sun as he made a direct line to Niphrediel's position, and as she came close enough to take him in her arms, he perked up on his hind legs; as to let his front paws come to settle on top of each of her two shoulders. 

The weight of him knocked her back, but it was a pleasing thing. Laughter emitted from Niphrediel's mouth; as did from those of the ellith and edhil on their assorted steads behind her, and Maerhelm sitting happily on his saddle, holding the reins of Niphrediel's horse that he had diligently grabbed after Niphrediel's departure from her mount. 

Niphrediel could positively taste Beren's joy— and could also sense his anger. "Oh, boy," she said against his soft pelt. "I am sorry for leaving you. I had no choice in the matter, I swear!" 

_"Niphrediel Herontil."_

Sobering quickly, Niphrediel looked up to met the gaze of the Lord and Lady of Caras Galadhon. Patting Beren's neck and settling him on the hearth, Niphrediel casually stood back up, her hand stroking Beren's head by her hip all the while. 

"It is just Niphrediel today, my lady," Niphrediel said to Galadriel. 

Smiling, Galadriel nodded once and reached out with her pale, slender hand to brush away a stray tendril of Niphrediel's hair. "And it be just Niphrediel tomorrow, no?" 

"Aye." 

Glancing to Arwen watching from her horse, Galadriel sent her granddaughter a knowing smile, and a quick wink. "What happened to you in Rohan, Niphrediel?" she pondered, looking back to Niphrediel. 

Moving her footing, Niphrediel gave the lady a curious look. "You knew about that?" 

"Of course I did," Galadriel replied. 

Niphrediel nodded, before giving a small shrug. "Many things." 

"Well…" Galadriel gestured to her prepared and waiting entourage behind her. "We have a long while to talk about it." 

Niphrediel and scratched Beren's neck, sending the lady her innocently joyous smile, "We do, indeed!" 

And so, the united companies of Imladhrim and Galadhrim— and Niphrediel and Maerhelm— left the borders of Lothlorien. It was a long, lingering journey, but very pleasurable still. Arwen spoke secretly to Galadriel of her plan to keep Niphrediel's true identity hidden, and Niphrediel reacquainted herself with rolling about on the floor with Beren. At first, Niphrediel could see Galadriel's scepticism, but the queenly elf abiding to Arwen's request— she would pretend to be Niphrediel's great-grandmother, and in tune, Celeborn agreed to be a great-grandfather. 

So it came that, eventually, Niphrediel began to tell Arwen and Galadriel of all she had seen out in Rohan. There was plenty of time— so Niphrediel never had to rush, and nor was she encouraged to do so. She told them of her parting with the rogue elf that stole her from Caras Galadhon, and of the disposition Saruman had brought upon those in power of Edoras. And, after a great reluctance, Niphrediel also told them of her Théodred. 

Arwen was not stunned beyond recall, though she was surprised that Niphrediel had been given favour and had, afterwards, _returned_ favour to someone— much less the late Prince of Rohan. Arwen was thoughtful about the topic— _perhaps she is not as much of a child as we assume, _she thought. 

Galadriel listened with the same calm expression, and an intent smile; making sure she heard everything Niphrediel said, as if it were so very important to her. Niphrediel liked that. Words flew from Niphrediel's tongue like rays of sunlight through a pain of glass. She held nothing back, and felt better for it. 

Glorfindel and Ivanneth were always present, yet remained somewhat out of the conversions between Niphrediel and the two ellith, endowed with open ears but spared with lapping tongues. Not that they disliked having to converse with each other, but rather they saw more importance in Niphrediel becoming on better and more familiar terms with Galadriel, and thought it best that she spend as much time as she could with both the her faux-mother and grandmother before the arrival at Minas Tirith. Both elves were old enough to know that it was important, wether Niphrediel thought so or not— and were happy to keep to themselves mostly with Maerhelm nearby, talking to anything that moved. 

Niphrediel came to learn the Celeborn was acquired with a sense of humour as well as an astounding amount of knowledge concerning anything from a butterfly to a mountain. Niphrediel loved him instantly! Though she knew it took a little bit longer for him to feel the same, she slowly felt him churning over time. She respected that his outlook on mortals was something she had not encountered for a while. Mortals lives were short, and so Celeborn did not pride himself in involving himself to such an extent with one. For that reason, Niphrediel felt guilty for pursuing the kind of relationship she wished for in a great-grandparent with him. 

But her need for companionship was far greater— Niphrediel realised it to be her bite of selfishness, as strange as it might have seemed. 

Niphrediel imagined it must have looked like a great parade to those watching upon the higher tiers of the White City as the company came to stand before the great gate. But, Niphrediel knew that whatever mystical any Gondorian inside the city must have seen that day could not compare to what her eyes looked upon. 

Though Niphrediel had read transcripts about the city, and had seen small sketches and paintings of it in scrolls, she did not picture it to be so grand. As she had been told, the city was built before Mount Mindolluin, looking as if it had been built atop of a hill. Honestly, Niphrediel could not tell if the great thing was a mountain or a hill— it was so high! Niphrediel was a slack judge at landscapes. 

Everything looked so gigantic, as if the walls were built by giants. Like a tower in itself, the embrasure loomed over the fields, standing so far behind the great gate yet appearing so close. And, almost too high for Niphrediel's eyes to reach, the Tower of Ecthelion stood like a silver arrow to the sun. The rooves of houses and large, beautiful buildings peaked over the walls of each tier, and large, bright banners swayed in the wind whilst being connected to those very same walls; like large rows of terraces and railings. 

The great gate, completely built anew, had already been opened. Niphrediel guessed that meant that the company was expected, but she could not have known for sure. For all she knew, perhaps the gate was always open. 

There were, however, guards flanking the door. Niphrediel stared at them for a moment, her 'kinsmen', with their foreign faces and their unfamiliar armour and garb— subtle features that should not have seemed so alien to her. 

Niphrediel's eyes ran over their helms; beautifully crafted, with wings like from the back on an eagle protruding from the sides, and their faces underneath. She looked at their garb; so different yet so the same, and her own hands fell gingerly upon the hips of her gown, rubbing the fabric between her fingers, almost in distaste. Lastly, Niphrediel looked over their armour and their weapons. They did not look light and slender like the weapons Niphrediel had been raised to use. They looked heavy, sturdy— weapons that no warrior could master in a day. Briefly remembering Boromir, who had really been the only one who Niphrediel could have took as an example of Gondorian fashion, Niphrediel felt a lump form in her chest and began to hear her heart beat with fears that she had attempted to keep at the back of her head since the journey into Gondor began. 

Niphrediel looked to her left, seeing Arwen upon her stead, immaculate as always, and seeming completely relaxed at being a stranger walking into an unknown place— an unknown world _within_ a world. 

Not even having to glance Niphrediel's way, Arwen shifted her grip on her black reins. "What is wrong?" 

Shunning herself quietly, Niphrediel was quick to look away from Arwen, her eyes once again rising to look upon the neck of the embrasure. "I am afraid." 

"Of what?" Arwen's voice was quiet, even though it did not have to be. The flanks of both her and Niphrediel's horses were practically touching; there was no strain on Niphrediel's ears to hear what Arwen had to say. 

Niphrediel tightened her grasp on her reins and shifted on Draconic's saddle. "He is a king now," she said, her voice almost hoarse as it struggled to be both quiet and clear. "What if"— 

"I know what you are going to say." 

Glancing at Arwen, Niphrediel noted her calm expression. Niphrediel could tell already that Arwen thought her worries were nothing but the workings of a paranoid and nervous (not to mention illogical) mind. That was what had Niphrediel possessed, too, at that moment. Yet, in her head, what troubles and ideas popped up were all supported with reasonable justifications. 

"And?" piped Niphrediel. 

Arwen took a deep breath, preparing to indicate for everyone to enter. "You should not even consider worrying about any of those things." 

"So much has changed," Niphrediel thought aloud. 

"But the things that he holds dearhas not, Niphrediel," Arwen countered smoothly, trying not to sound too insistent in her arguments. 

Niphrediel frowned and squinted, trying to look at the very top of the embrasure. She was almost certain there were people standing there, but they looked no larger then ants from where she was mounted upon Draconic. "Do I look horrible?" Niphrediel tried to sound as nonchalant as possible, pretending that she really did not care what Arwen's answer would be. 

With something of a sigh, Arwen turned and regarded Niphrediel. Her eyes trailed over her hair and garb, and lastly her face. Then, without saying a word, she reached out with a beautiful, pale hand and subtly adjusted the silver circlet upon Niphrediel's brow; perhaps 'plain' in comparison to the Evenstar's, yet still one of the most beautiful yet simple things she had ever worn, and brushed back a lingering tendril of hair, letting it sit back with the large grouping that sat upon her breast. That was Arwen Undómiel's answer. 

Following Celeborn's two finest Knights that entered just before Galadriel, Arwen took her reins and began to follow her grandmother inside. Niphrediel, however, was more reluctant. Instead, she waited for Maerhelm, and only began moving when he came to be beside her. 

Niphrediel look a deep breath, and heard foreign trumpets play in the distance, and the cheering of crowds. Draconic moved inside the gates of the city without Niphrediel's control, keeping pace with Maerhelm's horse. 

Would Maerhelm leave her company soon? Her beloved friend, who she had come to acquire a bickering sibling-like relation with, would return to his home and never return? 

"Nervous?" asked Maerhelm, a big smile on his face and a glitter in his eye that spoke of genuine pride and joy. He was excited for Niphrediel— he was proud of her! 

Niphrediel reached forward and took up his hand with a tight grip. She nodded and swallowed hard to rid herself of the lump at the back of her throat. The noise of the crowds was becoming louder. They were closing in. 

Maerhelm chuckled loudly. "Oh, do not be! You will be the greatest princess Gondor has ever seen!" He lowered his brow and brought Niphrediel's hand upon it; gently letting her knuckles touch his silky hairline. 

Niphrediel frowned as she watched him bring her hand onto his head in such a gesture of loyalty, as if she were something greater then he. Niphrediel shook her head and brought her hand to her stomach when Maerhelm released it. "You sure?" 

Maerhelm looked her in the eye and nodded, "Positive. I calculate that if we somehow find a way to fit your fat self through the gateway and convince the people your size is due to an allergic reaction to a bee sting then you will, undoubtedly, fit the profile of a perfect royal daughter." 

Niphrediel rolled her eyes, but could not help but laugh. Maerhelm's humour brought a light to any situation. She loved him so dearly for it. "You are terrible," she muttered under her breath. 

Maerhelm took her words as a sort of victory, his face adopting a bright and proud beam. "Whatever you say, my little Porky Princess." 

They entered then, at a faster gait. And, almost like a wave of sound, the voices of Minas Tirith's thousands alighted even louder in cheer when Niphrediel upon Draconic walked through the great gate. 

Niphrediel looked for the first time upon the faces of her kin. She looked at their black hair— so like hers, and their bright eyes hued primarily in greys and misty blues. Like she had always been told; they were a tall and a fair folk. She sighed and smiled. She was home. 

Up and through the gates that lead up into the higher tiers, rode the company with Celeborn's knights and Galadriel leading the way. Crowd upon crowd had gathered; Niphrediel felt almost embarrassed. She hoped they would not be too…disappointed. 

Slowly, the cheering and yelling began to dim as the company passed the Houses of Healing; the road to the White Tower becoming shorter with each passing moment. Finally Niphrediel could see the knights moving to a halt upon their horses, before the tunnel way of the citadel, and Maerhelm gently urged for both he and Niphrediel to move forward; to stand beside Arwen. 

There, Niphrediel could see the faces of heroes; some familiar, most unknown. Though, she barely had chance to regard most of them, for her eyes were immediately drawn elsewhere— to the centre of the pack where there stood a man more grand and more beautiful a-sight then any other Niphrediel could imagine. 

He was tall, dressed in magnificent in a garb that was of a style foreign to Niphrediel's eyes. His hair, a slightly wilted ebony was well groomed and combed back, so that the crown that sat upon it looked all the more perfected by that grand man— that King, of whom wore it. But, above all, it was his face that Niphrediel looked to, and it was his face the conveyed his true self to her; no Gondorian garb or hairbrush could alter his face, and it was so lovely. His features expressed no smile, no hint of joy, but his eyes glittered with tears as he looked upon her, and Niphrediel's own began to surface in return. Remembering there were others present, however, Niphrediel tried her best to keep herself poised; it was a formal return. 

It was her Aragorn. Her Aragorn, now a King— and a powerful one at that. To Niphrediel he looked like a great painting of old, a character in an old tale set in ancient Numenor. Almost elvish, she thought. 

_Aragorn_… Niphrediel's dry lips mouthed the words as a tear sprung from her eye in joy. She turned to Arwen, and smiled at her. The elleth smiled back, her smile no larger yet so much more beautiful. Niphrediel wished she had her smile. With an inclination of her head, Arwen motioned for Niphrediel to meet with Aragorn first. It took a moment for Niphrediel to properly realise that; and had she not spent practically every waken moment with her since she reached Rivendell, she might have been shocked. 

Suddenly one to tarry, Niphrediel held her bottom lip nervously as she slowly demounted from Draconic's back, but when both of her slippered feet happened upon the ground; she lost all motion of patience. Niphrediel ran then from Draconic, her grey cape fluttering heavily in the wind behind her, and flung herself helplessly into Aragorn's waiting arms. 

It seemed she was not the only one that was eager for their embrace, for as soon as they collided, Aragorn began raining kisses on her forehead as he held her tightly, as if meaning to never let go… or, perchance, to use her as a human shield. 

Niphrediel let out a joyous laugh. She could tell he had missed her more then she had missed him. Niphrediel had Imladris and it's inhabitants— oh, and Maerhelm. Aragorn had Legolas and Gimli. Save Maerhelm, Niphrediel had the upper hand when it came to whose company would have been more of a comfort and a thing to keep their mind off darker things. 

Remembering Arwen, and the 'secret plan', Niphrediel brought her head up from Aragorn's shoulder. "Aragorn?" she asked quietly, her eyelids closed as to keep her eyes safe from Aragorn's continuous kisses. 

His pecks came to a stop, then, and Aragorn released her from his hold. His eyes scanned over Niphrediel's face as if he had forgotten what she had looked like from their time apart. He smiled, and brought his left hand up to cup it. Those that looked on must have done so with swelling hearts; behold a man and his beloved daughter! 

"You needn't say a word," Aragorn countered in a hushed whisper, the meaning in his intense stare telling Niphrediel that he knew far more then she thought he had. "I know." And then he smiled; and it was such a glorious and familiar sight that Niphrediel physically felt her heart weep. 

"Look, one and all!" he said loudly, taking Niphrediel's hand and rising it. "Lo! and behold… my daughter!" 

_Behold… my daughter! _Niphrediel could nearly see birds swirling over her head as his words repeated in her mind, over and over like an echo that became louder with every turn. Especially with the last two words. _My daughter! My daughter! My daughter!_

Niphrediel closed her eyelids in pure ecstasy, and a tear fell from the corner. She leaned forward with her eyes closed in momentary ecstasy, and Aragorn held her against his heart again, with his lips upon her head. 

* * *

"Niphrediel, Princess of Gondor and Arnor. 

"Princess Niphrediel of Gondor and Arnor. 

"Princess…Niphrediel." 

Niphrediel paused and sighed. The wedding celebrations were about to begin within the citadel, and the day was still golden. Niphrediel had changed, and had often checked the mirror to remind herself what she looked like in Gondorian garb—she had never worn such garments before, the garments worn by any of her fellow Gondorian maids. 

Among _them_, Niphrediel felt herself become invisible. There was nothing remarkable about her that they did not have themselves. Her dark hair was a trait that was duplicated in each one of them (unless they were the subject of mixed-heritage), her height was somewhat over average but nothing extraordinary, and her features, though perhaps of smoother stock or shape, were of the same _type_. Yet somehow the feeling was both horrible _and _soothing; Niphrediel was with _her_ people, she was one of them, she belonged; she was home! 

Her hand came up to feel the silver hairnet that had been placed upon her head to keep the most of her hair up, and then the locks that were free from it, which curled upon her shoulders or simply fell down her back. The hairnet was connected to a circlet that came around her forehead; Niphrediel loved it— it made her feel…. like a princess. 

"Niphrediel?" 

Niphrediel visibly jumped, and took her hand down from her hair as if it would be embarrassing for someone to have seen her preening herself. She turned around, the skirt of her gown swishing. All the luxury was something Niphrediel could not get accustomed to. Niphrediel liked to think she was more adapted to what could be described as a… quiet life. 

Niphrediel's eyes widened as they focused upon the person before her, and she stepped away from the end of the embrasure. "Legolas?" 

Legolas stood before her with a smile. His hair was lovely, styled how Niphrediel had always known it to be, and his garb was a tunic of blue silk and leggings of dark grey with boots of navy upon his feet. He looked happy, even shy! 

He inclined his brow to her, taking his hands behind his back. "Niphrediel?" he called, with a knowing smile, his eyes twinkling in mirth. "Well, nice to see you speak!" 

"Oh…" Niphrediel's eyes misted over subtly with tears of joy as she felt her heart swell. She ran to the elf, enveloping him into a long hug. She held him tightly, what relief she had kept contained from her meeting with Aragorn spilling out on Legolas as a tear fell from her eye. 

Legolas was somewhat taken back, and it took a moment or so for him to return the embrace. As always, he treated her lightly, as if she were so easily breakable— too delicate for elvish hands. "Niphrediel?" came Legolas' voice, mingled with gentleness and slight worry. "Are you all right? Did I say something wrong?" 

Releasing him slowly, Niphrediel shook her head. "No, no— I am fine. I am just…. so happy to see you!" 

"You are?" Legolas seemed surprised, his brown brows high in wonderment. 

Niphrediel's stare upon the elf lost much of its cheer then, and her smile ceased to grow. "Well… of course," she said. "Aragorn, Gimli, you… Of course I would be happy to see you." 

Legolas shook his head. "Of course," he said, then, with an uneasy laugh. "Why are you not inside, preparing for the wedding with the others?" 

"I needed to take a little time to think for a moment," Niphrediel replied with a shrug of her shoulders. "Think about everything that has happened, you know? So much has changed." 

Legolas nodded once, a grin drawing out the corners of his mouth. "Aye," he said, "You are a princess now." 

Turning her head away, Niphrediel's cheeks momentarily flushed. "Stop," she said bashfully. 

"I mean no harm by it. By all means, it is no curse being a royal," Legolas winked wryly, his grin shifting more into a dry smirk as he held out his hand to her; a silent offering to accompany Niphrediel to the citadel. 

Rolling her eyes, Niphrediel laughed quietly, taking Legolas's hand and beginning to walk beside him towards the citadel at a sluggish pace. "We will see about that," she said. "It will be a while til I get used to any of this." 

"Any of what?" 

Niphrediel simply waved to the circlet upon her brow. Legolas understood immediately. "Oh," he let out, with a nod. "Well, if it helps, it looks rather fitting on you"— 

"Hush," Niphrediel cautioned quickly. 

With a quirked eyebrow, Legolas shot Niphrediel a curious glance. "Hush?" he echoed. 

Niphrediel simply nodded. "I have not yet mastered the ability to take a compliment. If anything you say resembles one, my cheeks will become as red as a tomato. Especially now— I am extremely uneasy." 

"It would be rather entertaining," Legolas said dryly, with a sly grin. 

Catching the elf's look, Niphrediel took a moment to send him a forewarning gaze. "No, it would not," she countered, her voice firm. 

"Oh, come now!" Legolas suddenly exclaimed, pulling Niphrediel into a quick hug, "I jest, I jest. You have been without my humour far too long." 

Unresponsive for a moment, Niphrediel took a moment before sighing and allowing herself to adopt a wide smile. "Aye, I have," she said. "That will have to change over the next few days, then!" 

Niphrediel paused as she heard the sound of horns being played from the citadel. Her eyes widened as she then remembered that there was a wedding that was to take place at any moment. "Oh dear," she whispered, "We will miss it!" 

"Not if we rush," Legolas grinned, before giving Niphrediel just enough time to hike her long skirt up a fraction, and setting off again in a run; his hand connecting him to her, as it was in Moria. Except, unlike the account in Moria, they were both laughing all the way til they were safely inside. 

So it was that upon the day of Midsummer that Aragorn married Arwen, the wedding declaring that the Evenstar had officially made the same choice as Lúthien, accepting her fate to be parted from the fate of the Elves and her family. 

The ceremony was beautiful— but more so was the celebration afterwards. Niphrediel sat beside Arwen for that moment, upon a chair less ornate then Arwen's, but just a little grander then the seat of Maerhelm (who sat to her left) and whoever else was present. 

They all sat upon a great table at the front, and some nobles took it upon themselves to declare their loyalty and hope, personally, to Aragorn. They would bow, and smile— some even took it upon themselves to compliment the beauty of the bride, and one or two even tried to flatter Niphrediel; declaring she looked as lovely as her mother (which resulted in an exchange of grins by the two females, of course). 

The food was tainted with alien herbs, which were wonderful all the same; certain tastes somehow so familiar to Nieninquë's hungry stomach despite she was certain that she had never come across them before. She ate all that was on her plate, and then a little more, for there was always someone who came along to top it up. The music of the elvish lutes was bright and raised in song, yet there was still enough freedom in its volume to speak comfortably at the same time. 

After the feast, people began to pair up and dance in festivity. Niphrediel took that time to take a short pardon from the table to speak to Éowyn, who she had not had a chance to speak to beforehand. From that talk, Niphrediel came to know that Raewyn and the children were a mere few days away; travelling in a small company towards Gondor to see her. 

Though Éowyn did not have enough time to tell Niphrediel of Faramir, Niphrediel had already guessed. No one had told her of their relationship, of course, but Niphrediel noted the certain look in Éowyn's eyes when she glanced his way. Just because Nieninquë had never adopted that particular look upon her own person did not mean she could not identify it. Niphrediel was ecstatic for the daughter of Éomund. Someone could finally make her happy! 

She returned to her table soon enough, and felt pleased enough to watch the couples dancing. Their skirts swirled in bold colours and fabrics she had never seen before. The black hair of the women swished as their handsome partner's twirled them in their arms, and their faces held a glow that was so similar but so different to the light of elves. Niphrediel was completely fascinated with him. 

"Daughter Niphrediel?" 

Niphrediel blindly turned her head, focusing on Aragorn standing before her; his hand upon the shoulder of a young women, who looked no younger then herself, as if to display her to his newly adoptive-daughter. 

Niphrediel's brows unconsciously lifted, and her eyes flickered quickly from the maid to Aragorn. "Ah, yes?—Yes, father?" Niphrediel quickly corrected herself. 

"This is… ah, forgive me, my lady, what was your name again?" Elessar, King of the Reunited Lands, shot the maid an apologetic look. 

The maid gave a short giggle, and shook her head; Aragorn's forgetfulness had not embarrassed her. "Sarilya, my lord," she beamed. 

"Ah, yes," Aragorn shook his head in disappointment with himself. He could not even remember a name! "Sarilya, that's it. Lady Sarilya, this is my daughter"— 

"Do not fuss, Majesty," Sarilya charmingly interjected. "I know her name." 

Aragorn grinned and shrugged his shoulders, before turning his attention to Niphrediel. "Niphrediel," he said, "this is Sarilya; she and a few others will be your chambermaids. The Lady Sarilya has taken up task as your handmaiden." 

"Aye, my lady," said a courteous Sarilya, with a perfected curtsey. "If the royal daughter approves, I will happily and loyally serve her as loyally and obediently as I possibly can… til she grows tired of me and banishes me." Sarilya grinned mischievously, and looked upon Niphrediel with unbounded attention. 

Niphrediel did not know how to reply! She looked to the girl, then back to Aragorn, a somewhat shocked expression on her face. What could she say? She shrugged her shoulders and nodded. "Very well," she chuckled, "I will it." 

Niphrediel noticed Sarilya's excitement, and the way her chin and shoulders rose as if she had won a prize but was too humble to cheer loudly and throw a fist in the air in celebration of her victory. "You will not regret it, my lady!" she promised, and Niphrediel could tell she meant every word. Sarilya's intentions were neither false nor single-minded. She would be a fine handmaid, though Niphrediel was still getting used to the idea of actually having one. 

With a last, large smile to her King, Sarilya swept off to return to her mother and father's place at another table. She knew her mother would be proud of her; she always was, but her father would not be so joyous. He wanted to marry her to the son of one of his associates. Alas, Sarilya had already pledged herself to another… at least in body. But that was nothing that she was planning on detailing to her parents any moment soon. 

Hence, Sarilya had decided to promise her body and passion towards the throne and her new princess; she belonged to them now, and so any plans her father had on arranging a marriage for her, would have to wait another four years (which was the minimum number of years of service a handmaiden was expected to serve to her master or mistress). 

Sarilya put a skip into her gait; the evening had just become sensational! 

Whereas, back at the royal table, Niphrediel slumped against the arm of her chair; the arm connecting to Arwen's own throne. 

"What is the matter?" Arwen asked, sitting back in her chair, idly reaching out and taking Niphrediel's hand with her own. 

"Nothing," Niphrediel confessed. "Nothing at all." 

Arwen's brow quirked, but she said nothing. She merely raised her hand and guided the back of Niphrediel's hand to her mouth, and kissed it. Her lips did not linger, but nor was she inattentive. Her caress was motherly and sisterly all at one; Niphrediel had learnt to consider those gestures casually. 

"Come," spoke Arwen, rising from her chair… and leading Niphrediel along with her. "Come and dance with your mother!" 

"No!" Niphrediel had not meant to sound as loud as she did, but she ignored the various glances on she received from those unknowns sitting upon the royal table. Aragorn merely watched, mouth agape. He had seen suggestions of the greater affection the two had suddenly harboured for each other, but he had not seen it so clearly! He nearly fell out of his chair. He nearly chocked on his mouthful of wine. 

"Arwen, no!" 

As Niphrediel predicted, Arwen did not stop heading towards the 'dancing arena' (as Niphrediel had put it). Niphrediel realised quickly, so her protesting did not last long. She did not want to make a fool of herself _before _dancing. 

The others around them continued to dance, though. Niphrediel felt that comforting. She did not want all eyes upon them; though she knew that most pairs of working ones were, even with so many people dancing. It was easier to pretend that way. 

While the Gondorians danced a dance of their culture, Arwen and Niphrediel began to dance in the elven way. Niphrediel felt so utterly stupid, having her form so close to the most beautiful being under Eru's heavens. It was so simple to compare Niphrediel's lack of grace when the most graceful being was right before her, completing the circle that Niphrediel was skipping around; their hands joined high above their heads. 

Niphrediel closed her eyes, where she could pretend she was an elf. But, she had to open them when Ivanneth joined them. Each pair of feet moved with the light-footed movements of the elves—even the mortal's own. Niphrediel's feet had to attempt to keep up with the eloquent dance; it was one of the first dances she had ever learnt as a child! It was a classic! 

Niphrediel looked down, to where multicoloured skirts fluttered and bellowed about their feet, making their heights gracefully rise and fall as they continued to dance about in a circle, twirling sporadically when the rhythm of the music called for it. Niphrediel only recognised her easy way of moving then. She realised that she did not need to worry; no one who watched would see any fault in her way of moving. She made no mistakes to a train of movements she had known since childhood. 

Niphrediel laughed, and her twirls became more exuberant and energetic, following those of the ellith. Niphrediel had fun, and what fun it was. Forever, she would remember that night, and that dance, as one of the brighter moments before the great fall; where things began to head downwind, even when they were not necessarily unpleasant at times. 

  


* * *

Niphrediel looked up at the ceiling of her new bedchamber. The moonlight shone through the windows onto her face, and she welcomed it. She could not sleep, and that way it felt like she was not so alone. The moon was, after all, one of Niphrediel's most astounding friends; one of her more familiar companions. Perhaps it was because she was sleeping on an unfamiliar bed. It was a little smaller then the one she had in Rivendell, yet it's craftsmanship was beautiful. A large divan made of wood, situated in one of the corners of the chamber, with silk layered over its body, and plush cushions over it's head. It was, by no means, uncomfortable. Niphrediel could not understand why she could not sleep, really; she was used to sleeping outdoors, on a mattress— or sometimes, not—so it should not have felt like such a knew thing for her. With a sigh, Niphrediel drew back the covers of the bed and sat up. She knew then that she would not be sleeping that night, and, with a tiny groan, she stepped up onto the cold floor and replaced the long plate of her hair over her shoulder. Though Niphrediel spared a glance to her nightrobe, she didn't bother with it. She was tough enough to fight the chill through her sleeveless nightgown. 

Her nightgown was actually quite a lovely thing. Made of some textured silk, she was certain, or perhaps some sort of lace. It fell from her shoulders, of course, and simply gathered under the breast and cascaded downwards. The only thing that was of some concern was its neckline. Its slope was a little too low for what she was used to; it would have looked far more becoming had she had a slightly larger… er… bust. 

Maybe Niphrediel was just being picky. She had seen maidens wearing the same design of dress when she had gone through the gates; it was more then a mere nightgown to them. Any normal maid could wear it during the day! 

Niphrediel sighed and yawned, and made her way to the balcony through two, finely panned glass doors. The wind was not too cold; Niphrediel just had to get used to it. In fact, to the more adapted observer, the night was quite a humid one. Niphrediel walked to the edge of the balcony and leaned heavily on the stone railing with her elbows. 

The night was beautiful where she was. From the highest tyre— much more the highest level of the King's House where the royal bedrooms were situated— Niphrediel could see over the entire city. The flames of tavern's candles and fires sparkled like stars amongst the lower tiers, and even from where Niphrediel stood, the gentle breeze carried the music and laughter to her. The celebrations of the common folk were far from over. 

Niphrediel smiled, somewhat thrilled at the idea that the people were so happy. Perhaps it was then when her mind began to contemplate, and it was only when Niphrediel found herself looking down at the hearth of the garden from her balcony, to see how far she was from the bottom, that she took a step back and shook her head. 

"No, Niphrediel," she mumbled under her breath, and gave her hand a small smack. But, alas, that did not stop Niphrediel from plotting. It would be so much fun to celebrate with her own people! To dance and cheer and mingle with the people whose very existence would be the centre of her universe! 

But, Niphrediel's playful smile fell when she remembered the guards who were in charge of entrances and exits between the first tier and the second. They would not give her passage. They would recognise her immediately. Then, of course, they would tell Aragorn, their liege, the next day and Niphrediel would have to handle his displeasure. He was still so happy to have her in the city; Niphrediel did not want to bring an end to such a good thing. 

Perhaps she could get someone who could give the guards a distraction, so she could sneak through? Niphrediel shook her head. _No, that would be far too complicated. _Either way, it was easy for Niphrediel to come to the conclusion that she _would _need a little help. 

But who would help her? Who could she possibly manipulate into joining her with a little celebration? 

Niphrediel crossed her arm over her chest, and with the other, she simply leant her elbow on it, so she could easily scratch her chin. Glorfindel would not help her… He knew her too well, as did Ivanneth. 

Niphrediel's eyes widened as another person came to mind. _Legolas!_ Niphrediel pondered. He would say no…. initially, she supposed. But he was too much of a darling to say no for long. Niphrediel almost felt horrible at the idea of using Legolas's gentleness to her advantage… But she was far too proud of herself for coming up with the idea in the first place. 

Niphrediel bit her lip, and silently giggled to herself before unconsciously patting herself on the back as she shoved a pair of slippers onto her feet. Her steps were silent, as she made for the door of her chamber. 

She crept as quietly as she possibly could out from behind her opened door, her head turning from one side of the corridor to the other, like a thief looking for a guard. She licked her lips mischievously, seeing there was no suggestion of any midnight corridor-walkers, before making a run for it. 

Niphrediel ran down the corridor, and then turned left into another. She even dared to laugh! But, how could she not? It was simply too much fun! Niphrediel almost commended her childish antics, but was too busy keeping her skirt out of her way with her hands, and admiring the way the silky fabric fluttered heavily as she moved. 

Blinded by her bounciness— Niphrediel noticed the presence of another before it was too late for her to back away and find another route around. Whoever the person was, they had already seen her. 

Niphrediel almost skidded to a stop, and fought away a blush to appear as composed as she possibly could. She tried to ignore the disarray her hair must have appeared in, suddenly slumped upon her shoulders like discarded black cord. She coughed nervously and held her hands behind her back before continuing on in a slow, laid-back walk. 

Though the candlelight was bright in the corridor, Niphrediel's eyesight would have been enough to be able to see the person clearly. Her eyes were, by all means, adjusted to the darker times of the day. Even though Niphrediel had been living in the day for quite some time, her acute sight had not changed. 

Niphrediel knew it was a guard. An armed one, at that; but that was something Niphrediel did not have to worry about. He stood straight against the wall, his great sword upon his belt. He wore what Niphrediel assumed was the Royal Guard's uniform, with a coat of arms upon the chest. Though he did not wear his helmet, Niphrediel guessed that was what he was holding in his spare hand. Even with the little light, it was obvious the man's hair was very shinny; even the short-cropped hairs upon his chin. Niphrediel guessed him to be a few years older then herself. Had he not reminded her of a younger Aragorn, Niphrediel might have thought of Théodred. 

Though Niphrediel did not wear a crown, the man bowed as she passed, and she could see he was rather handsome— and she had no doubt he had a dazzling smile; his lips appeared lovely, protruding from fair skin which might have seemed lighter in the lack of light. 

A charming grin stretched his mouth as he straightened from his brow, and Niphrediel was so inclined to offer him a nod of her head. Niphrediel's opinion of the young man shrunk; he knew he was beautiful all too well. "Such urgency at midnight, Highness?" 

Niphrediel tried to keep her pace slight, though she did want to hurry along. She offered an innocent smile and a little laugh and shrug, staying as casual as she possibly could. "Well I might as well, sir," she said, before giving a shy wave. "Goodnight." 

As soon as she was out of the guard's sight, Niphrediel hastened a little more, before turning left once more, and coming to a stop in front of the first door on the corner; one of the many that rowed the walls. 

Niphrediel barely hesitated. She reached out and slowly turned the doorknob, and silently opened the door—so quiet Niphrediel supposed a zephyr could not compete. Her eyes scanned the modest room on the other side as she took a step inside, and a smile stretched the tips of her lips when she noticed that the bed was not empty. Turning for a moment, Niphrediel closed the door behind her, before taking another step inside, towards the bed. 

Legolas did not toss nor turn. Though it was not necessarily impossibility for him to do so, it was a rare nonetheless. He was tired. Though he had taken so long to finally rest, he was exhausted still. On his third hour of rest, his body had regained its vigour, while his mind was somewhere else, a mixture of the ceiling above and his own imagination. 

He blinked dreamily, his eyes blank and dark like the blind stare of a newborn. Yet all the colour, brightness and twinkle reappeared when a quick hand swept forth out of nowhere and came upon his mouth. The sudden movement was enough to wake him up—and in the name of Eru, he was startled! His eyes were wide and pupils incredibly focussed as they looked up and down, trying to spot the head of this late visitor as he readied his hands into a fist; ready to lash out. 

From the side of the bed, Niphrediel's own eyes widened when she saw Legolas's fists clench, ready for a punch. That was not supposed to happen! So, almost with a jump, she lifted herself up onto the side of the bed, very quick to display her wide—though uneasy—smile. 

"Relax, relax!" she whispered, her brows high in earnest. Almost immediately, she could see the elf losing the edginess he harboured a mere second before! But his eyebrows also furrowed, Niphrediel could see he was not pleased. 

_"Wahduduwohn? Wahdehat?" _Niphrediel could hear the displeasure in his voice. 

Niphrediel cocked her head to the side. "What?" Suddenly, it struck her, and Niphrediel shook her head at her incompetence. "Oh, sorry!" she said, quickly removing her hand. 

Lifting himself up from his pillows, Legolas yawned into the back of his hand. "What is it?" he asked, readjusted the neck of his white tunic. 

"I need you to do something for me," Niphrediel said brightly, crossing her legs on Legolas's bed. "Please, please, please say yes!" Niphrediel held out her hand to the elf like a beggar to a noble. 

"All right, all right," Legolas yawned, pulled Niphrediel's hands down, and shuffling underneath his unneeded blankets. "What is it that you want from me?" 

Niphrediel took a deep breath before answering, and within her eyes Legolas tried to ignore her unspoken plea for his acceptance. "Come with me." 

Legolas frowned, confused. "Where ever to?" 

Niphrediel bit her lip, and simply motioned with her head towards the window… and the city beyond it. 

Legolas understood immediately, Niphrediel could tell by the recognition in his stare that had followed her gesture towards the window. "No!" he exclaimed, before shoving himself back into the very heart of his resting place and replacing his head upon his lovely pillow, with his back facing the mortal girl. 

Niphrediel let out a loud whine, bouncing on the bed instead of stamping her foot. "Please, Legolas!" she cried, letting herself collapse on his side like an annoying rash he could not scratch. "Please, please, please!" 

"Never," he exclaimed, reaching out for another pillow to place over his uncovered ear in a motion to drown Niphrediel's voice out. It would not work, but it was the gesture that counted. 

Struggling to crawl over Legolas onto the other side of the bed so she could show him her sad face, Niphrediel almost swore under her breath as she grabbed at his pillow and threw it across the room to kiss the wall. 

Legolas inwardly sighed, but did not have the energy to roll over to face his other side. He had the slightest inkling that would not work. 

"Pleeeeease?" Niphrediel allowed her eyes to glaze over a fraction. 

"No." 

"Ple"— 

"Niphrediel, no!" Legolas said, before reaching over for the spare blanket and throwing it on her. "Be quiet and go to sleep." 

Shooting the blanket a hateful look before ripping it away from her body, Niphrediel watched it rest upon the floor before returning her attention to the other person on the bed. She made her face sombre, and as sad as she possibly could. "…Please?" 

Legolas closed his eyes tiredly and rolled onto his back, his hand rubbing his brow. "Do you have any idea how much trouble you will get me into?" 

Niphrediel had to swipe the smirk from her mouth. She was winning! "I thought all about that! No one will ever know we left!" 

"…I…I will be blamed! You realise this?" Legolas was completely incredulous with both himself and Niphrediel. How could she talk him into it so simply and why on earth was he making it so easy? Perhaps Legolas was far more bored then he thought. 

Niphrediel almost groaned, "We will not be caught, I swear! And I promise that I will insist it was all my fault if we do." 

Legolas sighed and rubbed his eyes with his hand. He almost seemed to be disappointed in himself. "You will be the death of me, you know that?" 

Niphrediel had won. She smiled brightly and flung herself on the elf, hugging his middle like a child. "I know, I know," she said, before hopping up from the bed. "Hurry along and put some clothes on so we can go." 

"That will not be the problem, Niphrediel," said Legolas, strangely not so much as budging from his position in his bed. "I know most of the soldiers that will be celebrating tonight… or at least, they know me— how do you expect any of them to not notice me." 

Niphrediel had not predicted that problem. She frowned in thought; eyeing Legolas's ears and hair like she imagined a painter would look upon a bowl of fruit. "I have an idea!" she exclaimed proudly, and ignored the disappointed expression on the elf's face as she turned around and snatched the brown tablecloth from the nearby end table. 

"This might work," Niphrediel thought aloud, inspecting the spread tablecloth before her as she walked over to the bed again, sitting down on the edge nearest to Legolas. _It looks big enough… _"Get up," she requested, folding the tablecloth diagonally on her lap. 

Though he frowned, Legolas did as what was requested from him. "What in the name of"— 

"Shhh." Niphrediel ushered the elf silent. Holding the corners of the tablecloth with the thumb and index of her hands, Niphrediel carefully pulled the blunt side of it across Legolas's forehead, keeping it low enough that the top half of his ears was not visible. 

"Careful, careful," whispered an anxious Legolas. Niphrediel always knew elves' ears were sensitive, so she was careful to avoid so much as brushing up against his. Her care made it quite difficult when it came to knotting the ends of the tablecloth together at Legolas's neck— but Niphrediel succeeded eventually. 

"I look like an idiot." 

Niphrediel shot Legolas an unmoved look. "Legolas, you do not look like an idiot." 

"Perhaps," he replied, suddenly smiling. "But I do not look mortal, either." 

"You do so!" Niphrediel defended her handiwork. "Like a… Rohir." 

"A Rohir?" Legolas did not think so. 

Niphrediel nodded once. "Yes. A Rohir." 

Legolas rolled his eyes as he gathered himself out of the comforts of his bed. "Uh huh." 

Niphrediel sighed and got up from the bed. "Just hurry up and get changed." 

In the end, Niphrediel had to get Legolas a new tunic after dubbing his one a little too…. _elvish._ They snuck out of the King's House like shadows… Or, at least Legolas did. Niphrediel blamed her dress for making her clumsy. When Niphrediel and Legolas appeared before the guards, they simply walked through without any trouble. Niphrediel had known that the hard part was going to be going back in, not going out. 

In the streets, people bustled to and fro. It did not seem to matter what the time was! Celebrations were everywhere, though the real festivities were kept within the taverns, especially _'The King's Ale'_; which Niphrediel learnt was actually the largest and most popular tavern in the entire city. 

Niphrediel quickly noticed the difference of nature between the women of the city and any other place she had come across. And yet it was in a way that did not require any of them to so much as speak to her, for none of them did, of course. But there was something in the air, an unspoken agreement that was shared between a woman with a man, and a woman without. Niphrediel reached back and took Legolas's hand instinctively. 

Perhaps people did not realise he was an elf… but the glow of his skin, and the utter perfection and beauty of his person was something a tablecloth could not hide for long. Niphrediel tried to counter as many lustful glances Legolas received with a polite smile of her own. The ladies of Gondor might have had their wanton few (including men), but they were respectful. To a degree. 

Niphrediel eventually persuaded Legolas to dance with her. She was not very proud to say it had taken a few minutes of arguing, however. Legolas insisted she frolic about with the other maids while he drunk his ale and watched, and Niphrediel countered by…. erm….well, whinging. Niphrediel realised Legolas took to whinging real well, so she saw no point in doing anything else. 

Though his arguing made Niphrediel suppose that he was not a very good dancer, she discovered he was actually quite a fine one! How could she have thought any differently, even with his squabble in her eye? Niphrediel was almost disappointed in herself. 

The music was so different. Beautiful, but different. Niphrediel could listen to the musicians playing on their foreign instruments all day. There were instruments Niphrediel recognised, though: the lute, flute, harp, and several others. Yet the Gondorian music-makers made the sound seem so different to anything Niphrediel had ever heard… It was strange, bright, ethereal, but ultimately beautiful. 

Legolas and Niphrediel tried to mimic how the Gondorians danced. Perhaps it was the ale that they were drinking after each song, but whenever they made a mistake, a long laugh proceeded immediately afterwards. It dawned on Legolas that it was the first time Niphrediel had drunken such alcohol-induced ale after she had finished her fourth pint. He unconsciously slapped himself. 

"My lady?!" 

Niphrediel turned around from the bar blindly, expecting to see Legolas despite that the voice that had spoken to her clearly belonged to a female. "Sarilya?" Niphrediel was stunned. She did not expect to see her there. 

Sarilya, who had obviously been out and about the city for some time, stood before her lady in a dress not unlike Niphrediel's own, with her hair decorated with lilies. Her hand was connected to another; a young man who stood behind her, talking to a friend. He was a marvellous sight; the young couple perfected each other in the eyes of any whom looked upon them. 

Niphrediel guessed the lad was the same age as Sarilya, or perhaps a two or three years older at most. His hair was a dark brown, which Niphrediel remembered was a trait of the folk whose blood had mingled with those of the mountain men, or did not have as stronger bloodlines. The trait also suggested that the young man was not of noble birth, for those that were had features more pure to those that travelled to Gondor from Numenor. His tresses were curly and soft looking, and he wore them combed back, as to keep hair out of his face. His skin was a tanned gold, and his eyes a bright blue. He was tall and built supplely. From his garb that consisted of a plain white tunic, brown trousers and simple, undyed leather boots; Niphrediel guessed him to be a forester or a hunter. 

Niphrediel looked from Sarilya's partner to the girl herself, and noted the unspoken plea in her stare. "You say nothing, I say nothing?" Sarilya prayed aloud, brows high. "I am so sorry to ask you of it, High"— 

"Shhh!" Niphrediel placed a finger over Sarilya's mouth. "I say nothing, you say nothing." 

Sarilya let out a sigh in relief. "Thank goodness!" she said, before tugging the hand of her partner to beckon his attention. 

The young man immediately turned from the other youth who he had been talking to, his brows high as he stepped against Sarilya's shoulder. "Hmm?" 

"M'lady, this is Aradras," Sarilya said, lovingly holding Aradras's arm and laying her head on his shoulder. "Aradras, this is my lady Niphrediel." The last sentence, Sarilya whispered quietly in Aradras's ear. 

Aradras shot Sarilya a perplexed look. "The princ"— 

"Shhh!" Sarilya laughed, putting her hand over Aradras's mouth. "Yes, yes, yes, be quiet about it." 

"Well… what a rebel, my lady!" Aradras laughed, his face brightening like a star as he did so, taking Niphrediel's hand and grazing her knuckles against his brow. "See, Sarilya, even the royals know where the _real _celebrations are." 

Sarilya rolled her eyes, releasing Aradras from her hold. "Oh, be quiet. Go, talk to your brothers," she said with mock-scorn in her voice. 

Aradras shrugged his shoulders with a cheeky grin. "Fine. I will meet you at the bar in a little while." He bowed his head to Niphrediel before leaving, and Sarilya waved to his retreating back before turning back to Niphrediel. 

"Why in the world are you here?" she asked, still rather surprised, taking Niphrediel's arm and leading her to the side of the tavern, where it was more quiet and people could not hear their chatter if the tried. 

Niphrediel let out a nervous laugh, struggling with an attempt to find the right way to explain. "Well… I just heard the music and decided I want to come and… join in." 

Sarilya put a hand over her mouth, as she and Niphrediel came together in laughter. "I could not blame you," she said. "What better way to spend the first night in your new kingdom then to celebrate with your commonfolk." 

Niphrediel shrugged her shoulders and nodded, "That was what I thought." 

"So… you came here alone?" Sarilya asked with raised brows. She hoped it was not the case. "Well, if you did Aradras and I will take you home whenever you like. We have servant passes." 

Niphrediel was touched by Sarilya's kindness, and was quietly proud of herself for having such a lovely handmaiden. "No, no, I did not come alone," she smiled, before pointing to the man….. er….. _elf _having a drink of ale on the other side of the room. 

Sarilya quirked an eyebrow at Niphrediel before following her stare— and when she did, she immediately turned her head back and bent over in a fit of giggles. "Oh my!" she cried, having to cramp her hand over her mouth again. "You brought _him!_" 

Niphrediel bit her lip, smiling broadly but somewhat bashfully. "Is the idea _that _awful?" 

"Oh, no, no, no, I do not mean it like _that,_" Sarilya said, sobering a little. "I just mean that… I do not know… He seems so orderly, so noble, like your father. I would not have guessed that he would have allowed you to come all the way down here, much less come _with _you!" 

Niphrediel beamed, looking again to her immortal friend, chin up in pride as if what Sarilya said was absolutely true and it was only because she was special to Legolas that he would have left the citadel and brandished his conscience. 

"I know what you mean," Niphrediel said with a grin, after a pregnant pause. 

Sarilya smiled. "He is a very dear friend of yours?" 

Niphrediel nodded, turning to regard Sarilya with a happy expression. "Yes," she replied proudly, then ran her thumb over the tiny, half-faded scar upon the corner of her jaw. "He gave me this." 

"Ai, my lady!" Sarilya exclaimed, horrified. "That is terrible! How dare he!" 

Niphrediel's eyes widened. "No, no! It was not like how you think— really, if you knew the entire story, you would think it rather funny." 

Sarilya shot Niphrediel an awkward look, but she gave up after a moment or so. "Oh… well, very well then. But, you had better explain things for me." 

Niphrediel laughed and nodded once. "If you insist, then I shall." 

"Brilliant!" Sarilya cheered, before glancing towards the bar. "Let us talk over ale, my lady. It'll be most enjoyable." 

And so, the two maids swept towards the bar and ordered two pints of fine ale. Naturally, Sarilya knew which brew was, in fact, the finest. Niphrediel discovered through their conversations that Sarilya's father's business in trade was through exports in meats— and wines and ale. Needless to say, Sarilya's family was a relatively wealthy one. 

They danced. Of course, by then, they were both rather tipsy— and uncoordinated at that. Though, it was of no surprise that Sarilya remained relatively sober, even through her moments of clumsiness. Since Sarilya had been accustomed to the taste of ale from a young age, the brew's affects were not as prominent. Luckily, instead of becoming horribly silly due to the influence of the alcohol and embarrassing herself completely, Niphrediel became quickly exhausted. Of course, her tiredness set in _after _her and Sarilya's great many dances. 

"Niphrediel, is that you?" asked a sarcastic Legolas as he sat upon his comfortable armchair, directing his question to the head that had fallen onto his shoulder, and the body that was suddenly slumped against the same limb. 

"No," grumbled a groggy Niphrediel, her numb right cheek visibly squashed against Legolas's shoulder and her eyes half-open . Somehow, through her exhaustion, Niphrediel still managed to come up with something to bite back at Legolas's sarcasm. "My name is Lúthien." 

"Of course it is," Legolas smirked good-heartedly, sweeping his arm up and around to balance her; and eventually straighten her up on her own chair. "And my name is Beren." 

With that, Legolas stood up from his chair and jerked Niphrediel onto her feet. With a yawn, the newly crowned princess rubbed her eyes and leant dependably on Legolas's shoulder as he looked around for her handmaid who was waiting for them both nearby. 

Niphrediel looked up affectionately and thankfully at Legolas. If it were not for him, she would not have had such a brilliant time! For that, she held his arm all the more tightly. He was so kind to her! So nice and generous and gentle! 

"We should depart now," Sarilya nodded, smiling once at Niphrediel and nodding towards Legolas. She tugged on her partner's arm, who then seemed to agree with her. 

Aradras gestured towards the door. "Aye, we should," he stated the obvious. "Once we reach the gates to the last tier, we will use mine and Sarilya's servant passes to get you through. Have no fair, they are residency ones; and we are familiar with the guards anyway. Chances are, they shan't even question us." 

Aradras's guess was right; the guards did not so much as second glance the group of four. Not even when they all let out a miniature cheer once they were on the other side. After Sarilya said that one of them were a close cousin of hers, it was less of a mystery as to why they did not so much as eye the elf. 

"Thank you for taking me out, Legolas," smiled a genuine (and immensely tired) Niphrediel, as she stood with Sarilya at the door to her bedchamber. "Really, it was so much fun." 

"It was not like you gave me much choice, your Highness," grinned a wry Legolas, who was obviously proud of his cheeky reply since he received something of a glare in return. 

Niphrediel poked her tongue out crudely. "And here, I was trying to be nice." 

"Do not pretend to be offended, that would only entertain me more," Legolas said with a laugh, taking a step backwards. "I will see you in the morn. Oh, and never fear, for you were my favourite Lúthien." 

Noting how much sarcasm was spoken in the last sentence, Niphrediel smirked before opening her door. "Yes, well, you were a useless Beren," she replied, then moved through into her room.   
  
  
  
  
  


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**Note:** Oh, how eventful. Seems like a perfect ending, huh? I mean, Aragorn and Arwen are married and Niphrediel is all happy and stuuuuuff..... But no. I'm evil. I make people wait so bloody long for a chapter while I'm writing the last ones of the same story and totally destroy the lives of my main characters. Ah well. Hope you enjoyed this chapter, anyway. I'm not very proud of it, but I got to get the ball rolling for what's going to happen next and whatnot. Also, thank you all for such possitive and helpful feedback. I mean, really. It's possitively amazing. And, also, after reading one in particular-- the one in which an awesome reviewer has noted Niphrediel's pure thoughts and lack of... well... knowledge of her sexuality you have somewhat uncovered a part of Neph's character that I have pounced on through eventual character development. Wooooo, I'm quite stoked someone's noticed this... it was a part of the plan to, chapter by chapter, give complexity over complexity to this otherwise 'pure' character. Also, to answer a certain inquiry: No, I don't draw pictures of Neph, sadly. I have discovered I'm not as much of an artist when it comes to that form of art. Not only that, but the mental picture I have of Niphrediel is something I just can't sketch. I don't know why... I just can't! I always get her features wrong. Nothing different from me drawing anything else, really :) Hit me back. Good, bad, really horrible????? Oh, and I know: it's smaller then usual. Sucky as. It was supposed to be a mega-huge one but I decided to split the chapter, and make it two seperate ones. I thought it would be better as two different doses. 


	15. Chapter fourteen: Behind the Glass Doors

**Chapter fourteen: Behind the Glass Doors**

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Once upon a time Niphrediel would have given anything to have one more moment with her mother. Then, as time went by, she felt the same way towards Aragorn, when he had somehow fallen in a battle with warg riders on the way to Helms Deep, and, before that, Théodred. But, the morning after her great night out, she would have given that and more… just to sleep. 

"Leave me!" she cried, forcing pillows over each ear and keeping her eyes tightly shut in defiance. A lump was in her throat, and her voice was croaky and coarse as if she was in dire need of a good cough. Niphrediel was so uncoordinated that she could not feel if it was actually her ears her pillows were pressed against or another part of her body. 

Sarilya had no time for games! Yet, she recognised Niphrediel's disposition. Obviously the taint of her alcohol consumption did not stop at clumsiness from the night before— Sarilya had no doubt Niphrediel felt terribly ill. But there was absolutely _no time. _Celebrations and ceremonies were yet to be had and Niphrediel was obligated… no, _sworn, _to attend. It would be an insult to the other two members of the royal family and especially Aragorn if she did not attend. 

Sarilya climbed over onto the bed, and hooked her arms under Niphrediel's armpits. Thank goodness the royal daughter had been lying on her back; it was hard enough to pull her up into something of a sitting position… Sarilya could not have imagined conjuring up enough strength to turn her onto her back, as much as a meagre activity as it was. 

"Get… up!" Sarilya cried, as she attempted to pull Niphrediel up even more so. She did not care that Niphrediel's head had rolled back, and her eyes were still closed. Sarilya had no choice. Unfortunately, she did not notice how close to the edge of the bed she was when she put all Niphrediel's weight onto herself… and leant backwards. 

With a squeak and a croaky groan, the two young maids fell into a mingled heap on the floor; limbs messily tangled to such a degree Sarilya almost mistook Niphrediel's hand for her own for a brief moment. 

Niphrediel let out another groan. Her head had landed more harshly than the rest of her body. "What the"— 

"Shhh!" Sarilya pleaded, tiredly pulling herself up to sit at Niphrediel's side. "Here, sniff this. I was hoping you would not be bad enough for me to have to use it, but here!" Sarilya took the lid off a tiny phial she took out from a pocket in her surcoat and waved it underneath Niphrediel's nostrils. 

Like fire almost, the scent of the liquid inside it's small glass container slinked through into Niphrediel's nose. It spread like a plague, first jolting the muscles in her face out of their current numbness then moved up into her eyes. Only when Niphrediel opened her eyes, did the burning stop. The same happened to the other joints of her body; starting from her neck, then to her shoulders and arms, abdomen then legs. It was horrible, but in the next moment, Niphrediel was incredibly awake. It felt like the energy of one average person was alive in but one finger of her hand. 

"I am up, I am up," whispered an awakening Niphrediel, her eyes open and wide as they looked upon the mysterious phial in wonderment. "What is _that?_" she asked, in awe. "It is… like wild fire." 

"Aye," nodded a pleased Sarilya, tucking the phial into her pocket again. "It is like that the first times you use it. The more you use the herb, the less effect it has on you— after a while. You will need it a few more times during the day, I predict, so I will keep it in my pocket for you." 

"It is a temporary lift?" Niphrediel thought aloud. 

Sarilya shrugged her slender shoulders and nodded briefly. "Of course. Nothing like that can last forever, 'else we would never sleep or dream." 

Niphrediel said nothing, but she understood Sarilya and bowed her head in agreement. 

"Now, we really must get you ready," Sarilya said quickly, on a more sombre note. Her eyes were regretful, and her eyebrows high and furrowed in a silent plea for Niphrediel's cooperation. "We are already late." 

"Late for what?" Niphrediel frowned, confused, pulling herself up onto her arms. 

"The celebrations, of course," Sarilya replied simply, gathering up her skirts and rising to her feet. 

Sarilya helped Niphrediel bathe, despite Niphrediel's constant insisting that she would leave her alone to do it. Sarilya respected Niphrediel's modesty, but she had no time to allow her to indulge in it. With two bars of soap between them, Niphrediel washed her body as Sarilya dealt with her hair and back. Needless to say, there was not an inch of her skin that did not come out somewhat sore out of harsh treatment once she stepped out of her lukewarm bath. 

If there was, however, a centimetre of her flesh that was spared from Niphrediel and Sarilya's merciless scrubbing… it surely must have had it's time to ache when Niphrediel dried herself off with towels when Sarilya left to grab her garments and whatever else Niphrediel's body and hair would need to complete her overall look. 

Sarilya insisted on making braids and little twists at the back of Niphrediel's head with her hair, which remained slick with water for most of the time she was preparing herself. The most of Niphrediel's hair, though, after being pulled back and interestingly dressed at the back, fell in a well-groomed train down her shoulder. A pearled comb was crowned at the top of Niphrediel's head, and a train of silver was placed around her brow. 

Niphrediel sighed in relief when they were finally finished. She looked over at Sarilya beside her, who was finally overcoming her moment of panting, and nodded once in acceptance and respect. "You have never served anyone else?" Niphrediel was amazed. 

Sarilya let out a tired laugh, and shook her fine head; her curls bouncing vividly with that one tiny movement. Her eyes danced and twinkled in her momentary laughter, and she almost seemed to glimmer in her dark green gown; snug and elegant, with a rounded collar that spanned around her shoulders, looking almost to overlap itself with fabric embroidered with gold—- the very same embroidery that was on the cuffs of the sleeves. She was so lovely. 

"Oh, no," Sarilya grinned, adjusting the position of the taut bun at the very back of her head. It was almost like an unspoken rule, Niphrediel had noticed, that no servant was allowed to outshine his or her mistress or master in standards of style; strange, for Niphrediel could imagine people mistaking her for the handmaid, and Sarilya for the princess. "But I have sisters." 

After a moment of laughter, Sarilya reminded Niphrediel that they were still late. After both took one deep breath, they rushed out of the room and made towards the main hall. When Niphrediel stepped through the grand doors into it, and noted that there were only her 'parents' and a few others inside; she shot Sarilya a glare. 

_"We are already late, _huh?" Niphrediel hissed with a wryly arched eyebrow. 

Sarilya smiled brilliantly, pleased at Niphrediel's reaction. "Of course," she murmured smugly. "Your parents are already here"— 

"Niphrediel!" yelled a glowing Arwen, her remnant fair in a royal blue and scarlet red, rising from her chair to wave Niphrediel over. "Good morn, daughter," she said, the last word falling from her mouth with surprising ease. When Niphrediel stepped before her, with her mortal brow in line with Arwen's chin due to Arwen standing upon the dais, the elleth carefully brushed her hand over her forehead before leaning down and planting a motherly kiss upon it. 

Aragorn, who already stood at Arwen's side, ready to greet those who would eventually arrive for the midday public celebration, smiled at the sight. "Glade to see you are awake, Neph," he said, his voice quiet, clear and gentle; as Niphrediel preferred it to be. With his arm out, waiting, Niphrediel moved over and embraced him; warmly, but briefly. She would have time afterwards. It was almost as if Gondor had parades coming out of it's ears! 

Niphrediel stepped onto the dais, on Aragorn's right. The only way she knew that was where she was supposed to stand was because the same chair that she had been sitting in the night before was settled at the right of the king's throne, and Sarilya sat upon a cushioned stool beside it with her hands clasped upon her lap. 

Like re-enactments of the previous night, the nobles and guests eventually arrived. They walked up towards the three tall figures at the rear, and bowed before separating to their own tables on the sides. Perhaps it was the attendance of the sun that made that particular celebration seem less formal then the ceremony the night before, or perhaps it was because Niphrediel was so much more relaxed. 

Niphrediel smiled and tried to manage an inconspicuous wave to Glorfindel as he and Ivanneth arrived. The same did she give to Éowyn and Éomer, and then to the hobbits and Gandalf… then a well-groomed Maerhelm. Then came the inevitable arrival of Thranduil's eldest and only son. 

His hands were held behind his back, and he walked with a smug, knowing smile on his face that Niphrediel just wanted to slap off. All in good humour, of course. Niphrediel was even amused to see that he did not wear his classy scarf. She could tell that such a thing would not be an entry to his everyday wardrobe any moment in what she would have predicted as the immediate future. 

After he and Gimli, who he had escorted, had broken from their conversation; both he and the dwarf looked first to Aragorn. Gimli smiled, his cheeks rounding and brightening in joy, and waved; whereas Legolas gave Aragorn a broad, proud smile and an inclination of his brow. 

Aragorn gave Gimli a deep nod and a grin in response, and to Legolas he simply smiled. So many smiley faces… Niphrediel almost felt left out. But, she smirked in a way when the though of Aragorn not being so smiley if he knew that Legolas had snuck out with her the night before and allowed her to drink so much ale. That was how Legolas saw her, then; the dark princess on the dais… with a playful smile halfway between a smirk and a grin, and a stare of complete and utter amusement. 

Legolas's smile broadened and brightened, and a few more stars dazzled in his clear blue eyes. Niphrediel was not surprised, but she was pleasantly pleased. She had always liked to make him smile. Even though his face seemed crafted for that very purpose… she did not think that he indulged in smiling and laughing enough for her liking. 

Niphrediel sent him a wry wink; a quick one, as to not be too blatant. Legolas visibly brightened, and it looked as if he had moved backwards to laugh— though he was too far away for Niphrediel to have heard it— and so it was a moment or so before he shot one back at her in response. He did eventually, though, and then it was Niphrediel's turn to laugh… but she did not. She sat back smugly in her chair with a proud, but taunting, smile on her lips. 

By then Niphrediel and the King and Queen were sitting upon their chairs, as were the most of the hall, so it was easy for Niphrediel and Legolas's moment to go unseen from the couple to Niphrediel's left. 

But it was not. 

Aragorn noticed, and though his eyebrow quirked and his eyes narrowed on Legolas… he was not displeased at Niphrediel and Legolas's public show of mutual friendship. But, since the night before, the newly crowned king had become increasingly watchful towards those that gave Niphrediel attention. But he should not have looked twice at Legolas. Legolas was his friend, not a sleazy drunk or power-hungry lord looking for a young whore or an attractive, young wife to parade during parties. 

It was a fun lunch. Though, instead of dancing, Niphrediel preferred to swap mock-glares with Legolas the entire time, and stifle laughter as best she could whenever he gave her one back, or some silly look that involved him being cross-eyed and having an expression like a dumb goat. 

Aragorn noticed that, too. 

*******

_Niphrediel could hear the single drop of blood land on the leaf of the tiny apple tree as if it was a great rock landing upon marble instead. As it splattered upon the green surface of the premature blossom, the single red teardrop bounced off into four independent drops of blood— smaller, brighter, and somehow more sickening to see. _

Those four drops fell slowly, exaggeratedly, like paper balloons falling from the sky, onto the ground and only then could Niphrediel see how horrible it was; murky and black. And there, half buried in it, with skin so pale it was no surprising that the skin was not already decaying; positioned in a somewhat upturned angle, was the severed head of a young child, barely out of infancy. Her eyes were wide-open, grey and so colour-less that it was difficult to guess where a pupil might have been— and yet they looked upon Niphrediel as if they knew everything. They could see everything. 

_Niphrediel screamed, horrified; the sight of that child tearing her heart, sickening her gut, and clothing her spine in ice all at once. Involuntarily, she stumbled backwards as her ankles gave— the feet set bellow them so numb Niphrediel had forgotten she even had them. She felt herself fall through air, and her hair flutter around her face._

_And then, she landed. _

A gasp took that place of Niphrediel's cry as she connected with a surface far more softer then the dirt she was expecting her back to meet with— and just the last breath ended on her lips, the very surface in which she landed upon swallowed her body whole. It was water. 

_Niphrediel spread her arms, preparing to attempt to swim upwards, but as soon as she had actually gotten her arms into such a position; she knew that time was different there. Everything was so slow; so exaggerated; and it took all the energy in her two limbs to get them out. Had the dark, foggy water not surrounded her face like a suffocating mask— there would have been tears falling down Niphrediel's cheeks._

She was sinking. As quickly as Niphrediel possibly could, she turned her head around and looked down, only to discover that there appeared to be no visible bottom. No end to her falling. No end to her sinking. 

_Normally, the very idea would have made Niphrediel panic— but she did not. Instead, an ill feeling in her stomach took her over. She knew for certain then that something was definitely, unequivocally and horribly **wrong. Perhaps if she could see something— anything, except the never-ending darkness that suffocated her in every direction she looked…. except upwards, where it was hard to imagine that a sun or moon might shine from.**_

_Yet something was shining. Or rather, something began to. Then two— two blue lights, like torches, could be seen, and yet it looked to Niphrediel that they were so very, very far away. And then, there were three lights— then four, and more and more appeared as quickly as the last. _

_Niphrediel squinted, trying to see through so many levels of blurry water to make out what was creating such illumination. A flicker of hope rekindled her motivation to move— as did her excessive loss of breath— and Niphrediel began to move her arms again. As her desperation for became more profound, Niphrediel started to move her legs, as well, and yet she could not move herself from the position in the way she was in; with her back flat and her front facing upward. _

_Suddenly it was, that a loud sound shock Niphrediel's eardrums to their very core; a sound that made it seem as if the very earth was breaking. Niphrediel's eyes widened in astonishment as she watched the blue lights join to form a face, dark, ugly, and sinister. A pair—large, dark and blue— plundered through the surface of the water, so fast that Niphrediel's heavy limbs could not possibly fend them off once Niphrediel realised exactly what they were after… her neck._

_Niphrediel tried to move, but her strength was completely torn from her. She clasped the wrists of the unholy being as it locked around her neck, and tried to fight them in every way she could possibly think of. As those hairy, blood-dirtied hands locked around her neck and pressed down— Niphrediel felt the monster press down and could feel the water brushing up against her back and hair as she was forced down._

_Despite what she had originally assumed, there **was **a bottom to the endless blue. It was the same dirty, bloody hearth that she had prayed to not have seen any closer before she had fell, and it hurt the back of her head and back as she banged against it. Gravity was dulled there, as it was in real water, but it was the force of the hand pressing against her that made the landing painful._

_Niphrediel fought with all her might against the pair of hands, yet her greatest efforts were met with no reward. So large was this fiend that it appeared that even though his victim was pressed back against the pool-bed— the water-level only reached their forearms. The same blue lights shone greater then, and prevented Niphrediel from seeing a face or anything else. _

_She brought her heavy legs up and kicked. She squirmed and dug her nails into her enemy's thick, inhuman skin, but that only caused his grip on her neck to tighten. Niphrediel was running out of time; she was running out of air. And if this beast tightened his hands around her neck one more time, he could certainly chock her to death before the water even had it's chance to do it's work on her lungs._

_In shear desperation, Niphrediel turned her head to the side. Wether or not she expected to see the face of the child sitting a mere inch to her left was uncertain, but the terror in which brought her eyes into round orbs of horror was completely unquestionable. _

_Niphrediel screamed as loud as she possibly could, and yet as afraid as she was; her eyes simply would not obey her plea to pull away. She could not look away. She could not blink. She could not think. She could not fight.She could not breathe._

_Niphrediel was drowning._

_**"NIBEN-MÎR DREGO! DREGO! DREGO!" **That was not her voice. But it was so loud, Niphrediel felt something inside her ears pop. She could not hear anything else after that— not the rhythm of the water, not the dull clanging of her body against the pool-bed. Not one forsaken thing._

_Blood trickled from Niphrediel's ears; dancing out from them into the water like blossoms swept off by the wind. Finally, she closed her eyes, and cried out once more— before ceasing to move completely. Her mouth unconsciously opened, and Niphrediel could **feel **the water plundering through her lips and down her throat. She could feel herself dying, and she was absolutely petrified._

Niphrediel clasped her own hand on top of her mouth to keep her cry muffled. Her eyes were already red and stricken with tears by the time she had them wide-open, and a lather of sweat was upon her brow and down her back. She lay there in her bed for a moment, as still as a statue, before the sound of her own weeping brought her out of her temporary immobility. 

She did not care that it was in the middle of the night. The lightning flashed outside her window, but Niphrediel could not see passed that glass pains. She decided not to; the weather was completely irrelevant. 

Niphrediel practically jumped out of her bed and sprinted from her room. She did not think she was being childish in her decision to leave her chamber, where she was alone. If an adult had a dream like hers', perhaps there would be someone to reassure her that what she was doing was not wrong of a mature young woman. 

She felt sick to her stomach. Niphrediel could almost taste the disgusting, dirty taste of the dark water on her tongue. She could still smell the scent of rotting flesh. She could still see those pale eyes; dull, lifeless and so horribly intense that she could not turn away from them. 

Once Glorfindel opened his door, Niphrediel hurried inside… and vomited. 

_"Ai!"_

* * *

"What is the matter, darling?" 

"It does not matter, naneth," Niphrediel pulled her face closer to Glorfindel's pillow. Ivanneth sat on the side of Glorfindel's bed, her hands at her lap. She tried to be gentle and hear Niphrediel out… but it was just a dream, and she could not understand why it had affected Niphrediel so terribly. Niphrediel knew that was what the elleth was thinking; so she did not go into detail, even when Ivanneth asked her to. 

Glorfindel stood at the door, his arms crossed. He looked upon Niphrediel helplessly, and with some concern—- more so because she was crying rather then the cause. He was just thankful his chamber ceased to smell of vomit. "She will be fine, Ivanneth," he said, smiling at Niphrediel. "She can sleep in my room tonight. I have yet to use the bed anyway." 

"You have not slept?" Ivanneth was a little surprised, even though sleep was hardly an everyday requirement for elves. 

Glorfindel smiled a little. "Nay," he replied. "These past days have been joyous. That I would not be awake to bask in the peace for a mere moment of this freedom would be a waste." 

Ivanneth rolled her eyes at her friend, but she understood what it was that he was saying. She turned back to Niphrediel, and leaned over her. She reached out with her hand and carefully wiped away the moisture upon her cheek. "Go back to sleep," she whispered, before planting a kiss on her forehead. "We will leave you now." 

Glorfindel appeared reluctant to comply, but he nodded in the end. Ivanneth would know best, anyway. He watched Ivanneth draw away from Niphrediel, and gave her a brief smile as she passed him. 

"Glorfindel?" Niphrediel asked, as Glorfindel turned to follow Ivanneth out. 

Glorfindel turned, and looked upon her again. He was so lovely. "Hmm? What is it?" he asked. 

Niphrediel wiped her eyes on Glorfindel's pillow, and gave a sniff before answering. The sound she made declared it quite obviously that her nose was rather clogged from her endless weeping. "I would not want Aragorn to worry…" 

Catching Niphrediel's gist, Glorfindel nodded and sent her a helpful smile. "There is nothing to worry about, Nieninquë. It was a mere… well, you know. I do not have to tell you something you have already heard." With a tiny wink, Glorfindel turned away and passed through the door. The door followed him; and he took care in closing it quietly. 

Left to her own devices, Niphrediel let her head relax upon the pillow. Though her tears had created a large, damp spot where her head was laid; it did not bother her much. She just could not stop herself— the tears kept coming.She could still see the half-flesh covered head of some innocent child when her eyelids fell over her eyes. 

She could not possibly express how thankful she was that there was no longer anything she could wretch up from her stomach. Since she was comforted that she would not pollute Glorfindel's lovely room again and she had brushed her teeth, Niphrediel was able to weep in some form of peace. 

Niphrediel buried her face in the pillow, and pressed her hands against her temple as if in an attempt to push her down further. Her knees curled against her chest, pulling the blankets up with them, and the sound of crisp, fresh sheets chaffing mingled with the sound of Niphrediel's sobbing. 

She tore at her hair, almost in a moment of anger and frustration. She could not stop seeing it. Niphrediel could still feel the hands around her neck; tightening its grip with every breath she made. She could still see herself fighting against it, with no avail and she still felt that same helplessness— that same disgusting weakness that convinced her that, in that moment, she was going to die. Even safely in the covers of Glorfindel's sturdy bed, her mind continued to tell her body that it was sinking. 

It was that feeling that was the most unbearable. It was the very origin of the memories, and it was the most potent. In saying so, Niphrediel still picked up the sound of the door opening again. The sound was far too different from the rhythm of her crying for her to have not noticed it, though she could tell there had been effort made in an attempt to make it's opening silent. 

Legolas mouthed a swearword as a creak came from on of the hinges that bound the door to the doorframe disturbed his otherwise flawless passing. When he set his eyes upon Niphrediel's lifted face, his expression softened extremely from the initial look of frustration. He noted how red Niphrediel's eyes were, the flushed hue of her cheeks, and the wet trails that adorned them. 

"Niph… Niphrediel?" 

Niphrediel could only see the outlines of Legolas, for the light of the fire in the fireplace had long since dimmed, and the last candle that rested upon the end table of Glorfindel's bed did not reach very far. 

"Legolas?" Niphrediel was as quiet in her reply as he was. She did not know wether to be pleased or angered— but she was comforted in a way. "What are you doing here?" she asked, whipping her cheek on the back of her hand that remained draped atop of the pillow. 

"I saw Glorfindel in the library," responded Legolas after a brief hesitation. He did not think his reason for arriving was very important— he would rather hear of what exactly had put such a dire expression on he thought should always, always, _always, _be a happy face. "He smelt… well, I suppose you already know. I asked him about it, and he told me you had… gotten sick over his robe. I was concerned, so I asked where you were." 

Niphrediel clasped the pillow tightly and sunk behind it, a little embarrassed. "I bet you did not expect to see this, aye," she stated aloud. 

Legolas walked closer to the bed, and carefully kneeled down at Niphrediel's side. "What is wrong?" 

"It does not matter." Niphrediel turned away from him, and cursed Glorfindel for his big mouth. She was embarrassed, and was even more so when she could hear a huff of breath from a mildly irritated Legolas. She could practically hear his eyes narrowing. 

"What?" he asked; not hiding his confusion at her motion. He rounded the bed and jumped onto it like a child into a pool. He bounced against the mattress a few times before settling down beside her, and he comfortably lay upon the spare pillow as if the bed was his own. 

"You feel you cannot tell me?" Legolas asked quietly, his voice soft and understanding. 

"No," replied Niphrediel, surrendering. She propped herself up a fraction on her elbows for a moment and stiffened before speaking again. "It was just a dream," she said, and sniffed. Though she felt the trail of one particular tear rolling down her cheek, Niphrediel did not wipe it away; she watched it fall from her jaw and land upon Legolas's open palm. She could imagine the splash. 

Legolas closed his hands, and looked to his fist in interest as he rubbed Niphrediel's teardrop against his skin. It did not feel like a tear at all— more like a drop of melted snow, cold and so strange to have been borne from the eyes of what Legolas thought to be a warm person. 

"Describe it to me," he requested gently, turning onto his stomach. Niphrediel envied how his hair remained immaculately in place no matter how mild or wild his movements were. 

Niphrediel let out a sigh, letting herself rest upon her side so she could face Legolas, and clenched her fist against her chest for her own comfort. "It was dark," she said, beginning to explain and becoming reflective as a result. "So dark I could not see my own body. I looked down and… and I saw this girl." 

"Girl?" 

Niphrediel nodded, once. As her mind roamed, she let her hands rise over her mouth. "Sort of. Her head… her head had been… cleaved from its neck. She looked up at me; her eyes were dull and grey, but I could feel her stare on me so vividly. She made my heart skip." Niphrediel cringed, as she remembered. "Her skin was rotting on her cheek. I could… I could see the decaying muscle beneath." 

Legolas's brows knitted darkly. "…What happened?" 

"I… I don't know," confessed Niphrediel, glancing from the pillow, to Legolas's sympathetic face. "I fell. There was… water. I could not move. Then a pair of great hands fell through into the water. They came around my neck and… began to push me down. I sank and sank and sank til I thought there would never be a bottom. I tried to fight… but they just would not let go. I… I could not breath; I was drowning…" It was getting harder and harder for Niphrediel to describe the accounts then, and her hand unconsciously came to clench her throat. 

"When I landed, I found it was the very same floor I had been standing on before. The more I fought, the tighter the hands gripped my neck. I turned around and…." Niphrediel lowered her eyes; which glimmered with unshed tears in the candlelight. "And I saw her again. Her face was as close to me as yours is now. I could see everything… the pieces of skin that broke off into the water. The very same water that would burst through into my mouth and into my lungs." 

Niphrediel shuddered, and buried her head in her pillow. "I can still smell her rotting flesh," she whispered, still and pale. "I can taste her skin at the back of my throat, as if I _had _swallowed the polluted water. I can… I can still see her face when I close my eyes and I still feel…. I still _feel _the hands around my neck; squeezing, pushing, killing"— 

"Niphrediel…" Legolas was at a loss of what to say. He reached out and patted the back of her head. "Come on," he whispered, more softly. "Do not cry." 

Niphrediel chuckled nervously, dreadfully embarrassed against her tear-dampened pillow. "I am sorry," she said, rising from the cushion to give Legolas a timid and apologetic smile. "I am sorry you have to see me all upset." 

"Do not say that," Legolas said with some scorn, but with caring eyes. He looked down on Niphrediel with distant affection. He tried his best to appear confident and wise. "It was just a dream. Go back to sleep— I will stay til' I am certain you are asleep," he promised. 

With a shake of her head, Niphrediel was ready to refuse Legolas's offer, even if she would have liked company. "You do not have to do that," she said, with raised brows; tears involuntarily continuing to flow from her eyes. It had been so long; Niphrediel no longer appeared to notice. "I am fine." 

Legolas shrugged his shoulders; his keen elvish eyes watching a certain teardrop roll over Niphrediel's cheek and drop onto her soaked pillow from her jaw. "I have nothing else to do," he lied, extending his arm and wiping her cheek with the back of his hand. He seemed rather proud at his motion; for he smiled to himself as dampness grazed his knuckles. 

Niphrediel's heart swelled, and she jumped up and embraced Legolas; her arms coming around his stomach; and her head lightly planted just bellow his chest. "Thank you, Legolas," she said with a sniff, squeezing him tightly. 

With an arm casually laid upon Niphrediel's shoulders, Legolas took up and inspected her pillow. "Get comfortable," murmured Legolas, spotting all of the tiny stains of water Niphrediel had made with all her weeping. "This cushion certainly will not do for a princess, child." 

Niphrediel paused before saying something. She bit her lip for a moment, as if she was not sure wether or not the very thing she was thinking was… well, correct. "Don… Don't call me that," she whispered. 

"Call you what?" 

Niphrediel did not really want to answer his question. She chewed hard on the side of her mouth before replying. "Child," she said, her hesitation a very brief one. 

Legolas was quiet for a long moment, then. He listened to the calm drum of Niphrediel's beating heart, which accompanied the voice of his thoughts. When he spoke, his voice was gentle and as hushed as Niphrediel's was. But there was something in his tone— not sadness, but something so similar. "Very well." 

The silence stretched before them after he spoke, and as a last resort to bring an end to is; Legolas asked: "….You comfortable, Niphrediel?" When he received no reply, Legolas glanced down at Niphrediel. He was almost flabbergasted; she was already asleep. 

Legolas smiled and lightly patted her shoulder. She nestled comfortably into her living mattress; her legs stretched out diagonally beneath the blankets. A hand, her left, which had come over her head, clasped a handful of his silken tunic as if it was her very lifeline. 

"Oh well," he murmured, and was silent. "I suppose so." 

* * *

Niphrediel did her best to maintain her closeness with all who had come to Minas Tirith with her. She knew Aragorn and Arwen were busy being… well… husband and wife, so she gave them as much space as possible. Rivanon remembered her completely; Niphrediel noted with joy that he had grown at least two inches since the last time she looked upon him. For some reason, he reminded her of each and every memory she had of Rohan. Raewyn and her orphanage were given their own apartment in the citadel; their stay would be a pleasant one. 

Maerhelm continued to terrorise Niphrediel. Though the Elvish and Rohirrim companies were only to visit the city for a certain amount of time, there was yet a celebration that any of them had decided was to be their last. Niphrediel tried to avoid the idea of the Imladhrim returning to Rivendell without her. She refused to imagine living out her days in Minas Tirith without Glorfindel and Ivanneth. 

For some reason, Beren liked sleeping in the horse stables. After a few days, he began to buck his head against Niphrediel's hip and kick up onto his back paws; pretending to be one of his larger, neighing friends. Niphrediel would laugh, and tackle the wolf appropriately with hugs and kisses. 

It was not a stretch to say that Niphrediel spent more time with Legolas then she ever did before. They would lounge about together in the gardens, and would try to have a fair game of hide-and-seek with Raewyn's children. For some strange reason, Legolas would always volunteer to be the seeker first. And whoever he predicted would be the seeker after him, would _always _be the one who was found first. What a coincidence. If Sarilya was playing, it was almost like the two of them would seek out Niphrediel as a team. 

Her relationship with him might have raised some eyebrows…. if they were not from two separate species. 

And her dreams? Niphrediel never spoke of them again. 

She had the same one every night. 

"Where are we going?" 

"I _know _I heard water last night when Éowyn and I rode passed this way." 

"A _hunch_?You drew me away from the delightful ball and all the food on a _hunch?_" 

Niphrediel looked back over her shoulder and shot Legolas a glare. They were both dressed for gallantries that the forests against Mount Mindolluin could not provide, with Legolas in his finest silvery-blue tunic and grey trousers and boots… and Niphrediel in an ornate white gown, with her hair held upon her head by the thick band of silver that wrapped around her brow. They were both sights to behold, the elf more so in his beauty-kissed form, as they dodged through trees and puddles. 

"Yes, actually," Niphrediel replied firmly. 

Stepping over a rock, Legolas's frustrated expression dissolved immediately. "Good," he said. "I would not have expected anything less from you." 

Niphrediel shook her head at Legolas, but decided not to argue. "Where is Beren?" she asked instead, turning around and continuing forward on her march. She knew there was a spring there… somewhere. She had heard the trickling of water the day before when she had travelled passed with Éowyn after a kind journey across the fields. 

"Chewing on a rabbit a few metres to my left," replied a casual Legolas as his pace quickened somewhat so he could easily jump over the nearby fallen log— for his own fun, of course, since it was not blocking his path. 

Niphrediel knew it in her heart as she took one more step. She could hear the water falling, and beating… could she not? Or had she become so obsessed that it was her own mind playing tricks on her? 

"Legolas?" she called behind her, as she neared the damp vines, which blocked her view, falling over the branch of a great oak like a veil. The trees glistened damply, as if it had just finished raining; and the scent of the blossoms was so poignant in the very heart of the forest. 

"Hmm?" 

"Can you hear the water?" Niphrediel asked, with a slight frown as she tried to concentrate on her ears and what noises they were picking up. 

The sound of branches snapping and a body falling in a large shrub of vines and other such plants, was what Niphrediel heard at first. She did not have to be elvish to hear _that _disturbance. 

Niphrediel turned her head, looking a little to her left. Legolas's legs fell out from a shrub, his upper half lost inside it. She laughed and put a hand over her mouth as she watched him force himself back onto his feet. "Buffoon!" she declared brightly. 

Legolas ignored her, of course, bringing a hand up to his temple. 

"You drank more then you said you did, did you not?" Niphrediel sobered quickly, an arched an unimpressed eyebrow at the elf. Beneath her skirt, Legolas could imagine that she was tapping her foot. 

He did not answer the most recent question. Instead, he answered her first. "Of course I can hear the water," he said, taking steps forward that brought him to her side, just before the curtain of vines. It took him back to Caras Galadhon for a moment; and memories of seeing Niphrediel fall through into blinding light almost distracted him. 

"A waterfall for sure," Legolas said. "The sound if far too loud. I have heard the sound for the passed two hours since we came here." 

Niphrediel lashed out with her hand and lightly smacked Legolas's arm. "You have driven me mad, questioning wether or not I heard what I heard— and you could hear it?" she tried not to yell. 

"Of course I did," Legolas replied with a wide smile. "It was your own fault for not stopping to ask wether or not my privileged senses had come upon anything important that might have helped you… which could have taken, say, an hour off our little stroll." 

Niphrediel swallowed down a retort, as both she and the elf reached out with their hands and drew back the cover of vines. What they saw behind it, forced a gasp of surprise and delight from both of them. 

There was a waterfall— a large one indeed, falling out from the side of Mindolluin like an overgrown leek. The highest peak of the water-fall was very high up, at least from where Niphrediel looked, yet the tips of the trees that surrounded that framed area entire area, as if it were an arena. The pool the water landed in shimmered an infinite number of blues beneath the moonlight, and it was happily framed with rocks and boulders that had become smooth over time. It was large, and Niphrediel supposed it would be very deep as well. 

With interest, Niphrediel noted that each tree that sat upon the borders of the small waterfall had the same vines falling over their branches. She smiled in awe. "Look," she whispered to Legolas, as she took a step forward onto the boulder that the ground level was pressed against. 

Niphrediel pointed to the vines. "It is as if someone has… has set them up secretly. So… so this place would be private." 

"Aye," Legolas replied, his eyes roaming from one object to another. He walked passed Niphrediel, and began stepping from one rock another that would eventually lead him to the small patch of grass bellow. "This place is beautiful." He turned around and lifted Niphrediel down onto the rock, like an older boy would do to a tiny girl who could not step down herself. Really, Legolas just did not really trust Niphrediel to do the job without tripping on her skirt. 

"It is a beautiful sanctuary, indeed," he mumbled, as he set her down on the rock and continued in his moment of admiration. 

Niphrediel nodded, and jumped down from one rock to another; paved out like large steps, almost. She did not see Legolas watching as she hopped from one step to another; or that his arms tensed with every bounce, ready to reach out in case she would not land on her feet. 

"It is late," he reminded Niphrediel, somewhat in disagreement that she venture. "We should go soon and return another night, _Niphredil_." 

Legolas's last word sparked a fine thought in Niphrediel's head. Her hands unclasped the bound about her neck, which held the simbelmynë and niphredil seeds inside. She skipped further til she was in the heart of the patch of grass, and then carelessly sprinkled the seeds all over. 

"I cannot believe you still have that!" said a surprised Legolas as he watched from afar. 

Niphrediel smiled, and threw the useless phial and cord away. "I am full of surprises!" she said. "But lets go, they will wonder where we are. Will you come back with me another day?" 

"Of course." 

The night's merriment continued still when Legolas and Niphrediel snuck back inside the dining hall. They cleared their throats as they passed through the door; obvious yet inconspicuous. It had been effective in the passed…. But this time, there were neither strangers nor friends to notice their entry, for the dining hall was empty; with the side doors, great and high with ornate stained glass, swung open. 

Niphrediel and Legolas's eyebrows quirked in unison; the evening's festivity had moved out into the garden. 

"Walk in front of me," nagged Niphrediel, pulling on Legolas's sleeves so that he would stand in front of her. 

Legolas did as he was requested, but he sent a curious look over his shoulder. "Why?" 

Niphrediel gently shoved him forward. "So that no one can see the dirt stains on the bottom of my skirt." 

Legolas wryly rolled his eyes, but he was too gentle a-sort to be incredibly sarcastic with such a motion. It just was not in him. "What a lady you have turned in to." 

"Oh, be quiet," Niphrediel mimicked Legolas's dry tone, and they silenced themselves as they walked upon the stone porch outside, and then walked down the steps that led to the lower veranda. From there, Niphrediel stopped; she could see everything just fine from where she stood. 

The throng of guests were standing in the large glade that was something of a foyer in the garden; the one place where each area of the garden joined together in a way— like a fork in a road, or a river or stream. 

Niphrediel's eyes lingered on the forms of the elvish visitors; the Lady Galadriel and her lord, and Elrond, surrounded with their great circle. Her curiosity of what the large objects might have been which were covered beneath a great white drape of silk, which was what Aragorn was standing in front of, was brought to a suspension for that moment as she was reminded that the elves would, very shortly from then, be returning to their homes. And she would not be going with any of them. 

However dim her thoughts might have been, Niphrediel sent Aragorn a genuine smile as his roaming eyes coincidentally rolled onto her. 

_-"and so," _Elessar concluded, tearing his eyes away from Niphrediel so that he would not be distracted. _"We will have these statues… as a reminder to us all of who the true heroes were— the ones who believed we could prevail, the ones who had hope! The lords who were slain throughout the numerous times… of our journey."_

There was a large applause as Aragorn turned and placed his gemmed hand upon the drape. With one great tug, the fabric wisped away from the stone objects, which they once lay upon; and shrunk, like smoke, to Aragorn's feet. The appraisal of the crowd grew into great cheers of delight and pride as they all saw what was showed before them. 

It was a great line of statues, most only a head or so higher then Aragorn; but just enough for it to be obvious to the skilled eye that the body parts had been enlarged slightly for effect. Most of the men were armoured; their faces hidden beneath helms. It made no difference to Niphrediel, since she did not know who most of them were anyway. The statues of Gondorian warriors more often then not had a hand on their breast; whereas some few were positioned in a salute. The Rohir— there were only a few— simply stood with their arms at their sides, and with one hand casually laid upon the hilt of their sword. 

Rohirrim were more modest in so many ways, in their culture and appearance. Niphrediel noticed simply by comparing a Gondorian statue to another. Yet there was no favouritism in the hands of the man who created such monuments. His art reflected the distinct differences between the two cultures; and yet, with each warrior placed beside another…. it was beautiful, in that it represented how they came together. And, with Éomer as King, such relations did not have much chance of lessening. 

Niphrediel identified the late King of Rohan, Théoden. He stood proudly, with his hands clasped over his sword, which he held against his breastplate. His helm was brilliantly sculptured to exact likeliness that it was astounding for Niphrediel to look upon it. Niphrediel thought that there had never been an hour in which he ever looked more kingly. 

And, just as Niphrediel was about to turn around and make her way back inside to eat any of the fruit that had been left uneaten after desert; her eye caught onto a face so very familiar in the distance. She turned quickly, as if she had noticed a terrifying bat in the corner of her chamber who was waiting for her to sleep so it could drink her blood. 

The stone statue of Théodred stood on Théoden's right, as it should have been. He was of the same slightly extended height and statyre as the others, with an additional helm of stone placed over his flowing strands of hair that fell perfectly over his armoured shoulders. His arms, covered with heavily-detailed armour, were simply held out; as if he was being offered a basket. Such was the stance of a few other lords, but Niphrediel did not have eyes for any other of them once she set her eyes upon Théodred. 

He was so lifelike that, for a split second, Niphrediel almost believed that it was him. But then she noticed the unnatural hue of his skin and hair, and the way that his eyes did not sparkle, and she began to think logically. But that did not prevent the hurt from forming in her chest in stomach as she looked upon that which she had believed she would never see ever again. It was an inescapable ache. 

Niphrediel turned and looked at Éowyn down in the gardens beside her brother and Faramir. As if her skin felt the prickle of Niphrediel's stare, Éowyn reluctantly tore her stare away from the statue's face and looked upon Niphrediel. Her eyes glistened with tears that she was too stubborn to let out in public company, and her mouth threatened to quiver. 

A numb feeling came over Niphrediel's cheeks and lips, as the feeling in her chest became overbearing. The statue was too beautiful. It was so terrible to have something so real right before her that… that could not do anything except represent and advertise the beauty of the original being who was the basis of it's making. Such as owning the cover of an amazing book, without having any pages in between it. 

Memories of Théodred ran through Niphrediel and Éowyn's minds in unison, and due to the numb sensation in Niphrediel's face; she did not feel her own eyes clog with the same salty tears of bereavement. Théodred would always be a sensitive subject, no matter how long he would be dead for. He was Niphrediel's first love; the sweet romance that was possibly one of the purest and most lovely ones that Niphrediel would probably ever have. 

Éowyn eventually turned away when Faramir took her shoulders beneath his arm and guided her towards him into an embrace. Niphrediel looked away to the floor of the veranda and took a deep breath. She was not surprised when she felt an arm hoop into hers at that very moment, though she was not exactly expecting it. 

Sarilya's stare upon Niphrediel was sympathetic as she noted Niphrediel's downcast (and glassy) gaze. "I spoke to some of the Rohir maids today," she whispered. "They said you were their prince's betrothed. Is…. Is that true?" Sarilya was curious, but Niphrediel could tell that the truth, strangely, would not surprise her. 

Niphrediel awkwardly sniffed and nodded; rolling her eyes upwards to meet Sarilya's concerned eyes with her own. "It is true," she said quietly, a lump in her throat forcing her voice to lessen remarkable. "Once upon a time." 

"You would have done good things for that kingdom," Sarilya said kindly, to make Niphrediel feel a little better. Though, she did genuinely believe what she said. "You would have"— 

"It does not matter," Niphrediel interjected and smiled comfortingly at Sarilya. She rubbed the handmaid's hand warmly with her own, and shook her head. "What was done was done." Niphrediel gritted her teeth as she spoke. 

Even then, people were beginning to wander back into the dinning hall. They would nod, bow or curtsy if they noticed the Gondorian princess, as she stood beside her handmaid. Sarilya received the gestures for her lady, bowing her head to each noble or elf in return. 

Niphrediel barely noticed the decreasing population of the garden— but she looked up once when Aragorn, the last other in the garden, walked passed her. He smiled at her kindly, and lightly caressed her cheek for his brief moment. Niphrediel tried not to appear distracted, but she was far too disturbed to appear jovial. 

After a long moment, Niphrediel felt Sarilya draw away from her. Like Aragorn, she left for the dining hall— but not without a concerned look over her shoulder to her lady who she was leaving behind. She said something; something that Niphrediel was too lost to hear. She suspected it would have been something along the lines of '_do not be too long'._

Then, Niphrediel was alone. She did not even realise she was moving forward til she found herself staring up at the face of the beautiful statue. 

"Théodred…" Niphrediel whispered, neither to the statue nor herself, reaching out with her adorned hand to touch its cheek. However, after a mere moment when her fingers eventually came into contact with the stone face— Niphrediel drew her fingers away a fraction as if she had not been expecting for it to feel so… cold. 

_It is not Théodred, _Niphrediel reminded herself with mild frustration at her incompetent fingers before replacing them on the face they had so recently rejected. 

Slowly, Niphrediel closed her eyes, and placed her other hand upon the statue's other cheek. Her hands moved over each feature, identifying with each one as a blind man would. 

With her eyes closed and her mouth shaped ever so slightly in a smile, Niphrediel painted a picture in her mind that the statue could not. She imagined that she could feel skin beneath her fingertips— smooth and golden-kissed. She could feel the shifting muscle beneath her palms, as a full mouth parted in a smile. She pretended she could smell a mixture of sweet grass and fresh hay, a scent that never left Théodred's clothes. 

_"Niphrediel?"_

Niphrediel's eyelids drew away at once, and with the mildest reluctance, Niphrediel turned around. Her brows were raised, and her hands fell from the statue's jaw. She could see Legolas, standing at the first veranda, his brow knitted in a frown. 

Legolas looked from Niphrediel, to the fantastic monument, and then back to Niphrediel again. He turned to his side, while his gaze never shifted again. "Come on." There was a firm note in his otherwise soft voice. Perhaps it was his way of being concerned that evening. 

Innocently oblivious— or at least pretending to— of Legolas's darkened mien, Niphrediel nodded and drew her hands down to her skirts so that they would not hinder her as she walked up the steps to one veranda, and then again to another. Her pace slowed as she walked passed Legolas, who did not move. Niphrediel quirked him an eyebrow, but kept on moving. Only when she well on her way to the door, did Legolas follow; as if he half-expected her to turn around and head back down to the garden the moment his back was turned, and as if that was not a very good thing to do if she did so. 

The music and dancing forms of both man and elf surely must have brightened Legolas, for it Niphrediel's spirits soared all the more. Her mouth formed a pleased smile, as she moved between each couple towards her throne. Sarilya looked up from her lap, and smiled; her white teeth dazzling between her pink lips. 

With a gleeful sigh, Niphrediel skipped to her chair and sat down. Almost as soon as her arm was laid upon the chair's armrest, Sarilya leaned against it and clasped Niphrediel's hand. Niphrediel's chair was large enough for her to be able to curl her legs upon it at her side, so she did so; leaning towards Sarilya and resting her spare hand upon her lap as well. It was a marvellous position for them both to gossip freely. 

"You took your time," Sarilya murmured with an arched eyebrow. "Have fun?" 

Niphrediel shot the girl a mock-glare."Oh yes, an immense amount." 

As they both giggled, Sarilya glanced away from her lady and let her eyes scan the dancing crowd and the folk who remained at their seats, chatting happily with each other. As if she had seen something scandalous, Sarilya turned towards Niphrediel and placed her spare hand over her mouth, giggling uncontrollably. 

"What is it?" Niphrediel hissed to Sarilya, trying not to sound as interested as she really was. 

Biting her lip, Sarilya cleared her throat of her giggles before answering. "Look over there. Be natural about it," Sarilya tried not to be too obvious as she gestured towards the northern table with a flick of her head. 

Niphrediel tensed, before trying her best to seem subtle as she feigned a yawn and looked in direction of the northern corner. There was a group of five or so soldiers, standing against the wall with goblets in their bare hands. They were young men, eyeing the two young women upon the royal dais with confidences only young, beautiful womanisers could have. 

It did not appear to matter that Niphrediel was the 'daughter' of their King; in fact it probably made her more appealing. The boldest one, standing at the centre, where only a leader of the pack would— with eyes the colour of onyx stones— winked, taking advantage of Niphrediel's attention. Her grinned straight after he had, visibly proud of himself for having the cheek to do so. His comrades, in united glee, laughed joyously, and one even patted the young man on the back. 

They were lucky Aragorn and Arwen were at the other end of the room. 

Trying not to blush, Niphrediel turned her head as quickly as possible, hoping Sarilya's ease in the situation would somehow soothe her. Her eyes were wide, as if she had just seen something horrible. 

Sarilya giggled softly, til she noticed Niphrediel's terror, and she quirked an eyebrow at her. "What is the matter?" she asked. 

"I'm embarrassed," Niphrediel stated the obvious, bringing her hand up to hold her lowering forehead. 

Niphrediel's response must have been funny in some way, since Sarilya's smile grew so slightly. "You are like a child," she whispered without scorn. "Surely such attention cannot be so new for you, girl." 

Niphrediel did not speak; her upward glance was grave enough to speak for her. 

"Oh…" Sarilya was suddenly at a loss for words. "Do not be embarrassed, Niphrediel. Humility is a beautiful characteristic… Could I ask you a question? I promise you shan't have to answer it if you do not want to. It is rather personal." 

With an uncomfortable sigh, Niphrediel took back her hand at her lap, and raised her chin so to be level with her handmaid."… Very well." 

"Have you… hmmm," Sarilya paused, trying to think of a way to pose her question politely. "The late Prince of Rohan… did you know him?" 

Niphrediel shot Sarilya a look. That could not possibly have been her question; it was far too silly. "Uh, of course I did, Sarilya." 

"No!" Sarilya shook her head, realising her mistake. "I mean… Did you _know _him? As a man does when he _embraces_ a woman." 

Niphrediel's eyes widened and she drew them down again. Her cheeks flared crimson, and the heat of her skin multiplied. "No, no, no," she replied, shaking her head. "I… I have never known any man." 

"Have you ever wanted to?" Sarilya pried with an arched eyebrow and a knowing smile. 

Niphrediel thought long on how to answer. She had never been asked such inquiries. No one had cared enough for such a subject to ask. "Well… I cannot tell. What should I have felt if I did?" Was what she felt for Théodred, what Sarilya was talking about? 

Sarilya chuckled, before clearing her throat and explaining. "I do not really know… For me, it is… just, a longing, I suppose… a deep longing to be caressed and to caress in turn. Lust is the same I suppose, though I do not think of that with the same hospitality. Lust is what felines feel when they catch the scent of female in heat… I like to think that longing is something more… special." Sarilya nodded twice, pleased at her description. 

"You know of it far too well to have just been told of it," Niphrediel thought aloud, and watched Sarilya nod once and lower her eyes pensively. 

"Aradras." His name fell from Sarilya's mouth with complete and utter adoration."Naturally, my father does not hold him in high esteem. His family is poor and he is hardly what my father would call a marriageable bachelor." 

Licking her lips, Sarilya continued on. "That is why I became a handmaid. As long as I am in your service, I cannot marry." 

"Clever." 

Sarilya shrugged gently. "I suppose. It is a far better option then allowing my father to enter negotiations with the richest, oldest lord he can find. This way, I have four years to myself." 

"Only four?" Niphrediel was surprised. 

Sarilya nodded. "Yes, that is the minimum time of service. Traditionally, any way— and my father is a very traditional man." 

Niphrediel understood. "I see." 

There was a temporary halt in conversation then, and Sarilya let out a light sigh and looked out at brilliant dancers. The mistakes of those lesser-skilled dancers were… well…. _barely _noticeable. Niphrediel soon followed Sarilya's stare, and looked from one dancing body to the next. Sooner, rather then later, Niphrediel set her eyes upon Aragorn and Arwen. They were walking across the hall, towards the corner, smiling and laughing as they went. 

Niphrediel realised why soon after. Legolas was there, standing beautifully and straight; his hands clasped behind his back. And opposite him, was a sight that made Niphrediel's eyes narrow and teeth grit. It was an elleth— an exquisite one. Her hair tumbled over her shoulders like rivers of gold, falling so long that the curled tips could graze the back of her long calves if there was not the skirt of her faint pink coloured gown. 

After one glance of the elven maid, as she stood so close to Legolas that it was if she wanted him to smell her breathe, Niphrediel wanted to gag. 

"Who is _that_?" Niphrediel spoke more loudly then she meant to, leaning forward and gesturing with a nod of her head. 

Sarilya, surprised at the question, tried to find whom Niphrediel was asking of. "Who?" 

"Her!" Niphrediel tried to stress the word, turning around and looking at Sarilya. "The one in the pink." 

"With Legolas?" Sarilya asked, doubt in her tone; her eyes travelling from the elleth in question then to Niphrediel. It was hard for her not to be somewhat confused— why did it matter 

Niphrediel's eyes brightened. "Yes, that one. Who is she?" 

Sarilya shot her a look. "You should know! She travelled with the Galadhrim." 

Niphrediel slouched against the back of her chair, staring blankly at Sarilya with cold eyes. 

"Fine, fine!" Sarilya surrendered with two raised palms. "Her name is Elanor. She's a master healer— she dropped into the houses of healing a few days ago to see if she could be of any assistance." 

"Her name is Elanor?" 

Sarilya nodded, looking the elleth up and down. "Mmm," she let out, affirming Niphrediel's question. "Lovely elf, I suppose. A little overly… dramatic and sensitive for my taste." 

"You don't like her?" Niphrediel arched an eyebrow. 

Sarilya giggled slightly at that inquiry. "She is an elf," she reminded her princess. "I have to like her." 

Niphrediel understood what Sarilya meant, and nodded once. "But…?" 

"But she seemed rather… er… melodramatic in a way," answered Sarilya, remembering her moment with her. "It was as if she was going to have a collapse in tears when a boy came in with flu symptoms. _Very sweet, very sensitive, very dependant_ was what I thought when I watched her in the healing houses." 

"Really?" Niphrediel looked to Sarilya with a silent pleading in her eye. 

Sarilya's smile faltered, however, and she sadly shook her head. "No, I lie. She is absolutely perfect." 

Niphrediel sighed heavily, her shoulders slumping. "I was hoping you would not say that." 

The handmaid arched an eyebrow. "_Why?_" she asked, her eyes dazzling suggestively. 

"Because, look at _that!_" Niphrediel did not lie, she pointed her finger in Legolas and _Elanor's_ direction. 

"Aye," Sarilya thought aloud, studying the pair. "The wench is awfully flirtatious, and she is almost as beautiful as he is." 

Niphrediel knew Sarilya was stretching her dislike for the elleth— but she was thankful as well. "You think he is beautiful?" she asked Sarilya, half-knowing the answer. 

"Of course," Sarilya said without hesitation, as if it would have been preposterous for her to say no. "He is an elf, after all. He is exquisite." 

Niphrediel shuffled uncomfortably, her eyes examining Legolas intensely through her hooded stare. With great reluctance and slight disdain, Niphrediel noticed her elvish friend's beauty for the first time. Or, at least, she did so consciously. Light shone from his pale skin, and his flaxen hair shone beneath the firelight. His features were lovely, neither pretty nor ruggedly handsome— but, rather, somewhere between them. His brows were rather straight in shape and darker then the hair of his head, and his lips were thin but full; curved at the tips in to a closed smile. 

Extremely awkward with the things she had neglected to notice beforehand, Niphrediel tore her eyes away and forced them down. Her hands gripped the arms of her chair, and she paused to pinch her eyes closed for a moment. It was as if she had seen something horrible— something incredibly disgusting that would tarnish her forever. 

"Horrible, isn't it?" Sarilya sighed. "That they are so perfect. Like a reminder of our faults— oh, curse me… I should not be saying this in front of you… " 

Niphrediel frowned. "Why?" she asked. 

"Well, your mother is an elf, Niphrediel," Sarilya reminded her lady. "Which means you have the blood of those beings in you, as well as the blood of Men." 

_Huh, yeah right. _Niphrediel smiled dully at Sarilya, and was thankful as the musicians began to play a waltz— for folk began to talk around them, as they quickly went about picking their partner's for the traditional dance, while others went to their tables to watch. 

"Danger, danger, danger," Sarilya murmured to Niphrediel under her breath, as her lady took a moment to yawn and take to the bowl of grapes on the table before her and the gilded goblet of wine beside it. Niphrediel did not even like wine, but that specific brew tasted more like mouthfuls of smooth syrup. It was lovely. 

Drawn away from the rapture of her wine, Niphrediel arched an eyebrow at Sarilya gazed upon her. "Hmm?" 

"Look at _that_ sight," Sarilya nodded her head in direction of the ballroom. With a curious frown on her face, Niphrediel turned to look. 

And there it was. Elanor swayed beautifully, the beaded train of her gown gleaming, with one of her pale hands poised on the gentle curve of Legolas's right shoulder and her other perfectly placed against his up-turned palm. She must have punned, for Legolas was laughing at something; his chin lowered so to gently brush against the silver collar of his tunic. He danced with her, one hand clasping hers, and his other placed upon the clothed slope of her waist. 

Niphrediel wanted to vomit. Sarilya simply eyed the couple and shook her head, as if she looked at a whore and her innocent game— rather then two perfectly matched and virtuous elves. She stopped as soon as she felt Niphrediel's hand slip out of hers, and watched as Niphrediel stood up from her chair. 

"Niphred— my lady??" Sarilya called her princess as casually as possible, watching Niphrediel round the ballroom in direction of the guard-flanked double doors at the end of the hall. With a sigh, the handmaid jumped up from her chair and lightly jogged after the fast-walking royal. 

"Niphrediel?" Sarilya yelled out freely, once the doors of the hall were closed behind her from the citadel guards. She looked from left to right, finding Niphrediel heading down the hall on the later direction. "What are you doing?" she asked, as she skipped after her. 

"I feel sick." Niphrediel's answer was genuine, as her heavy steps took her forward; her hands brushing against the left walls. She eventually halted, and turned to lean her back against the wall of fine stone. She sighed tiredly. 

"Her name is Elanor," she said to Sarilya, as she came to stand in front of her; black locks tumbling over her slender shoulders. Niphrediel began to laugh helplessly at herself. "Her name is Elanor!" she repeated, her intonation suddenly higher. 

Sarilya quirked an eyebrow, and nodded once. "Yes, her name is Elanor," she replied, puzzled. "Is that bad?" 

"No," Niphrediel laughed, her head rolling back. "They will probably be married within the next year!" 

Sarilya smiled slightly and put a hand onto Niphrediel's shoulder. She leaned in as she asked, playfulness alight in her eyes. "Niphrediel," she began, with something of a giggle. "Are you jealous?" 

Niphrediel did not hesitate one moment to answering… "Of course I am!" 

As Niphrediel laughed at herself, Sarilya's smile dwindled. Had Niphrediel denied it, wether in pun or no, Sarilya would have joined her in laughter. But, for some reason, her lack of contradiction was not met with humour. "In the bad way?" 

"You mean, like if Aragorn saw Arwen kissing another elf?" Niphrediel grinned. 

Sarilya simply shrugged. "Aye." 

"Come on, Sarilya— he is my friend," Niphrediel suddenly began to argue. "He is sweet and kind and trustworthy— he is like a second Glorfindel to me." 

Sarilya held up her hands. "I did not say a word," she said to her lady. "But usually people do not rush out of dinners because they see their friends with potential partners and kinswomen— even if they are scandalous little wenches like Elanor." 

Niphrediel nodded and her shoulders slumped. "I just feel like I have been left behind," she murmured. "I am the youngest of the group. The baby, the child. I have only began to cringe when my loved ones use one of their old endearments on me… They are all adults. I want to be a woman." 

"That has nothing to do with Legolas," Sarilya pointed out. 

Niphrediel shrugged. "I have cherished my time with him. He listens to me like I am… important. I do not want him to spend his time in Minas Tirith with _her_. And… I hate him for allowing her to get his attention— I know they were only dancing…. But it still sickens me. It's the child in me showing. Is that so wrong?" 

Sarilya did not answer that question. Rather, her thoughts lingered on Niphrediel's previous words. "You want to feel like a woman?" 

"I want to know that… that is what I am," Niphrediel confirmed honestly, her hands clasping Sarilya's tightly. 

"You know what you need, my friend?" Sarilya asked, pulling Niphrediel away from the wall and slinging an arm around her neck. "A handsome date!" 

Niphrediel would learn later on in the night that Sarilya had discussed a few things with the winking soldier and his father on her behalf. The Princess of Gondor was told directly that the soldier appeared to be surprised and extremely proud as Sarilya spoke to him at his table, and that Aragorn shifted into grave orbs of intensity as they looked on. And the soldier, well, he was too overjoyed to notice. 

His name was Sirion. And he was nothing like Théodred. In fact, if Théodred had been alive, Sirion probably would not have lived to see his twenty-second birthday. But, he would do. Sarilya reassured Niphrediel that the experience would be brilliant, and that she would learn a lot from it. A first date was something most young women would go through at some stage, Niphrediel imagined. 

Niphrediel looked at herself in front of the mirror. She felt like a doll— one of Sarilya's dolls that stood behind glass doors on the shelves in her home. Her skin was perhaps darker then porcelain, but Sarilya had dressed her hair in what she had described as 'just right', and her body was fitted with a gown that, in Sarilya's judgement, brought out the bold darkness of her hair, the brightness of her eyes. The black garment might have made her skin appear less colourful, but it all did look rather nice-- perhaps not as lovely as Sarilya advertised, but fine enough nonetheless. 

"Well?" Sarilya asked, readjusting on of the mother-of-pearl combs that kept some of her hair up. "What do you think?" 

"I feel like an idiot," Niphrediel replied, without missing a beat. 

"Yes, well," Sarilya began dryly. "If you think like an idiot, you will move like an idiot, you will talk like an idiot, and thus you will be an idiot— so quit it and be enthusiastic." 

"Fine," Niphrediel sighed through gritted teeth as Sarilya stepped back from behind her. 

"All done," said the handmaid, brushing her palms together after a long hour's work. "Well, I have done the best I could." 

"Hopefully it will be good enough," Niphrediel smiled smugly at the fellow young woman. "So… what is the plan, anyway?" 

"Dinner in southern tower," Sarilya explained. "Private, but still within the citadel. I feel like I am… fifteen again!" 

Niphrediel smiled sadly at Sarilya, but her eyes lowered. She, herself, could not remember the exact time she might have been fifteen— she did not know how old she was. For all she knew, she could have been fifteen then! A mature fifteen-year-old, at least to the eyes, perhaps— but the point was, she had no possible recollection. All the years were scrambled, it was hard to think of an exact time when she could not rely on the age of herself when something happened. 

"Are you coming?" Niphrediel asked Sarilya. Some noblewoman demanded that their ladies-in-waiting follow them everywhere. Some, Sarilya told Niphrediel, had compartments bellow the mattresses of their beds where a spare bed for their servant could be pulled out. Niphrediel was amazed that some folk could be so dependant on other people. None of them were even ill or cripple! 

Sarilya shook her head. "No," she said. "I have to prepare things for tomorrow. Your dress… whatnot." 

"What is happening tomorrow?" Niphrediel thought aloud, trying to remember. 

"Just a little play time for the Rohir Raewyn's orphanage," Sarilya replied. "King Elessar thought it would be nice to organise games in the gardens for children. A few adults might join in, but the most of us are obligated to watch and laugh— it should be rather funny!" 

Niphrediel sighed and nodded. "Of course," she said. 

As if remembering their nightly course for the first time, Sarilya suddenly jolted. "Opps!" she began. "By me, I will make you late! Farewell, princess— have a good time." 

Niphrediel received Sarilya's quick peck on the back of her hand before making her way through the corridors outside her bedchamber. By then, most of the paths had sunken into memory; though there was the occasional time when she had to backtrack or ask a guard for directions. It was a large place, and less sprawled out and open then Rivendell, but Niphrediel felt the walls of stone homely. It was where she was supposed to be. 

Niphrediel's jaw set tightly as she moved passed Ivanneth, sitting on a stone bench with Elanor beside her. Lately, her Rivendell family had kept out of Niphrediel's business. It was strange for Niphrediel to walk straight passed Ivanneth, and only give the elleth a wave and smile, as if they were acquaintances. It was not so bad with Glorfindel— he stayed with Legolas and Gimli, but mostly Maerhelm. Maerhelm and Glorfindel complimented each other simply because their taste in jokes and bite in sarcasm were uncannily alike. 

"My lady." 

Niphrediel had not had to wait in the tower for more then five minutes when Sirion appeared. She had settled upon what she had chosen to be her chair, for the comfortable stone hall accommodated a lovely small round table in the centre with two chairs at either end. Niphrediel had decided on sitting on the chair facing the entryway. As a princess, she should not have sat anywhere else! Well, sort of. 

She did not want to think of the evening as a date. Rather, Niphrediel preferred to think of it as a political dinner. It made her less self-conscious and less nervous that she was sitting opposite a handsome young man of appropriate breeding age; too early out of boyhood to be a man, but not so immature to remain a boy. 

Yet, Niphrediel could see the boy in him. If not in his eyes that spoke of playfulness, slyness and pig-headed knowledge of his own sex appeal— then in his face and the softness of each crevice, and the lack of blemishes and wrinkles. He was young, like she was. 

For some odd reason, Niphrediel was not embarrassed under Sirion's obvious scrutiny. She felt guilty to admit to herself, that she did not care for him enough to truly think that there was any importance of his thoughts in regards of her physical self. She should not have had Sarilya organise the dinner. Or perhaps that was the three pints of smuggled ale speaking… 

"Your walk over was not too tiring?" Niphrediel offered as Sirion settled back into the cushion of his chair. His eyes glimmered grey in the light of the overhead chandelier and the torches lit upon the walls. There were also two candles brightly flickering from silver stands in the middle of their table, bringing an orange and yell tinge to both mortal's complexions. The light was enough to hide the beginnings of an unconscious blush on Niphrediel's face as Sirion's eyes moved upwards from his plate of superb food to Niphrediel's neckline. Niphrediel gritted her teeth together, and forced herself to seem nonchalant. 

"Oh, no," Sirion said. "It was well worth the journey, in any case." 

Niphrediel shrugged at his conclusion. "The evening has not really even started— how can you be so sure?" Niphrediel could almost hear the words popping up inside the soldier's head. _Because you are the princess and my friends shall be so jealous when I tell him that you wished to have dinner with me! _Niphrediel imagined Sirion to be a lady-killer. With a self-away arrogance, and the proud smirk; he had to be. Women were drawn to that sort of thing— that confidence. 

The ale flowed much faster then the food was eaten, on both sides. Sirion and Niphrediel spoke of anything that came to mind. Niphrediel was informed that Sirion's father was the lord of a noble house, and that he was the heir despite that his eldest brother was supposed to inherit the house by blood. Sirion's elder brother, Sirwain, was described to Niphrediel as 'rather on the dim side of the blade'. Sirion had quite a touch for quips, though he spend most of his time trying to charm Niphrediel. 

It was only when the two younglings were getting more and more intoxicated, that Sirion's charm began to work. Niphrediel could not believe she was drinking with a stranger— that she was making herself more vulnerable. In some strange way, as she took each sip… it was almost as if she was getting small tastes of rebellion. It was like a calm rhythm of adrenaline, simply because she knew that Legolas would not approve. Niphrediel knew she was being childish, but by the time she gathered the conscience to say it was enough; she was having too much fun in her drunken euphoria to care. 

She was settled down on a sofa opposite Sirion beyond the table— near the farther wall of the hall. They both held their pints, like two children playing with teacups. They were both completely out of their depths; neither had ever drunken so much. Niphrediel had her anger… Sirion wanted revenge. He hoped news of his dinner with the fine princess of Gondor and Arnor would reach the ears of the commonfolk, and that his sweet little Rosenwen would hear the word on her daily stroll through the markets. 

Sirion feigned a wide, dashing smile as he took a long scull of his tankard. As he closed his eyes momentarily, he imagined the look on her face as she went about her business, pretending not to listen to the gossips in the corner as they shared their story with each other— which, Sirion knew, would be a bastardised version of the truth, made more graphic for effect. He saw the scullery maid's face torn in pain in memory, tears flowing from her eyes. 

_A taste of her own medicine, _Sirion thought as he remembered the way she brought things between them to an end a mere three days and two nights passed. _'It is not worth loving a stupid scullery maid when you can have any women in the city and become better through them,' _she had told him, after he had confessed his love. As he attempted to give his heart to her, she had shoved it back into his chest before it missed a beat; but her grip on his tender organ had been far too harsh as she had done so. Sirion's heart no longer belonged to him. 

The princess opposite him laughed, her head rolling back as her shoulders rose and fall slowly with each second chuckle. Her garb was magnificent— it was not something Sirion could ever imagine seeing his Rosenwen wearing. But… the scullery maid's beauty still polluted his memory. Could he not just enjoy the sight before him? Could he not just… genuinely want the figure that lounged so vulnerably in drunken delight less then a metre from him? 

Sirion could not. But with the aid of alcohol and his own will, he brought up the courage to move onto the edge of his sofa and reach out. His hand found Niphrediel's jaw as she had slowly began to move it back around. He leaned forward, gripping the woman's chin with great expertise. 

"You are," he began with a drunken pant. "So beautiful." As if there was another who was sober enough to hear the forced faithfulness of his words, for obviously Niphrediel was without the sharp wits to be able to tell, Sirion moved forward and kissed the girl. 

Niphrediel visibly stiffened. Her brow furrowed into a dark frown and unlike the pinched eyes of her companion, Niphrediel's eyes remained open as she waited for Sirion to break away. She did not have to wait for long, since her lack of response was obvious enough for even the intoxicated young man to notice. As soon as her mouth was free, she stumbled onto her feet. 

Automatically, Niphrediel wished she had not. Her mind raced and her head became heavy, as if it was a heavy ball connected to her head and she had stood up too fast. She faltered in her step again and again til she came to knock the far wall with her shoulder. She let out a long laugh as her head lost its heaviness, and she turned so that she could slump her back against the wall instead. 

As if her sudden laughter was an invitation for Sirion to try again, he followed her to the wall. With her eyes closed, Niphrediel accepted him. She did not enjoy his touch— it was the first time any limb had given so much interest to her. His grip was too rough— too uncaring. Even in her stupor, Niphrediel knew that Sirion did not care about her. 

His mouth was on her neck as Niphrediel opened her lost eyes. But, as if lost in some distant dream, Niphrediel did not see Sirion as she looked down at the face that began to pull back from her neck. There was no hint of imperfection, no hint of the malice that Sirion's clasp had expressed, and no hint of mortality. Sirion's black hair had been exchanged for strands of flaxen silk. Niphrediel's eyes showed her a pleasant fiction; it was not Sirion, but someone else. Instead of being disgusted and taking a step back, Niphrediel responded. 

She let out a short pant before reaching out and wrapping an arm around the lad's neck, forcing his face downwards to hers with the same roughness. Her other hand gently cradled Sirion's cheek as she forced herself into his kiss. She pinched her eyes closed before her drunken vision began to fade. 

Sirion must have been stunned at her sudden vigour, for her almost stumbled to the side as he shifted his footing. But as soon as he appeared sturdy on his feet, he kissed the girl back. He ate into Niphrediel, ignoring her preferred slower pace. Niphrediel's brow wrinkled, but she made herself adjust. 

Sirion tasted like a mixture of stale ale and a disgusting mixture of pipe-weed. Recognising the tastes through her intoxication, Niphrediel felt her fantasy slip. She helped Sirion along as he began to reach downwards for the bottom hem of her gown. She did not understand why she would want to, for the rest of her body seemed to dread the eventual outcome. Wether Niphrediel knew it or not, she was shivering. 

The enthusiasm of her left hand died as Sirion pulled her skirt up her knee, and gathered her leg up from gripping the bottom of her thighs and hiking them up. Niphrediel felt her heart beating in every joint, and could feel the heart from all the blood gushing to her head. She could hear her own voice inside her heading screaming for her to wake up and stop. It felt so wrong. His touch, his kiss, his taste, his face, his body, his voice. It was not right. 

Her eyes bolted open, and her mouth ceased from moving against his. "Stop," she murmured blindly through her confusion, one of her hands coming to press up against the flat of Sirion's chest. He was himself again— glimmering brow, raven hair and all. "Sirion, stop." 

In her last attempt to stop him in his trail up her leg, Niphrediel reached out with one of her own and forced his hand back down. There was a frown on her face, and she could understand how he might not have heard her in her own way. "This is not right," she said, her voice suddenly coarse and croaky. 

Sirion took a step back, looking as if Niphrediel had slapped him in the face. His eyes glimmered under the firelight, and after taking another step backwards he collapsed onto his knees. "Forgive me, Highness," he wept. "Oh, please forgive me. I did not mean to force you so." 

Feeling incapable of stepping forward and comforting Sirion properly, Niphrediel collapsed on the ground against the wall, her hands in her skirt. She watched Sirion weep, regret and guilt rushing through her very being. "Do not worry," she said. "It was my fault too." 

Sirion shook his head. "No it was not," he said. "Your handmaid gave me a phial of white dust. She told me to sprinkle a little on our plates. It was supposed to relax the nerves…. She was afraid you were going to be nervous, or that I was going to be nervous…. Or something. I spilt the entire phial in our wine and did not think once about it. I did not think it would work." 

Niphrediel moved her knees upwards and wrapped her arms around them tightly; hugging them to herself. "Drugged?" 

Sirion nodded. "I think… I think so. I have a high tolerance for ale." 

"Why did you come?" Niphrediel asked, letting out a long sigh or air. 

"I wanted to hurt the woman I love," Sirion replied truthfully, his jaw set. "I wanted her to realise how much she loved me, Highness." 

Niphrediel would have laughed, if she had not felt so nauseated. "Well… what should we tell people when they ask us what we did?" 

Sirion looked at her, shook written in his wide eyes. "I will not be punished? But I have wronged you!" 

"You made a mistake," Niphrediel corrected, unable to show kindness in her numb expression. "It does not matter." 

"We will tell them that we played cards til midnight," Sirion offered then. "People know me to be endeared by such games. I was teaching the Royal Highness the art of a good game over a quiet dinner." 

Niphrediel tried a smile, but it felt as if the nerves in her face had retired early. "Good plan," she said."We will not speak of what happened ever again?" 

Sirion nodded. "I might seem pompous, but I am a might of my word. This never happened." 

Niphrediel let out a sigh in relief, and nodded. She could not possibly express how thankful she was. "You know, about that woman? The one you love?" 

"Yes?" Sirion's brows rose at Niphrediel's mention. 

"You should try writing a love letter next time." 

A few minutes later, Sirion called for servants and Sarilya to escort Niphrediel to her bedchamber, and to send for his horse. Sarilya gave them both a strong tea, which cured them of their harsh intake of powder a few hours past. Their energy returned, and the symptoms of eventual migraines dissipated. 

Sarilya slept on the sofa in Niphrediel's room. She could barely tell that the other girl was in the room with her, expect the air had taken on a slightly sweeter scent. Even when Sarilya was not conscious to remind her that she was not without support and confidence, there was something that did so in her place. 

Niphrediel lay in her bed, her head turned to the side. Her eyes were open, looking back again into the accounts of that very night. Not one muscle on her face so much as shifted as a tear fell from an eye. Her hands gripped handfuls of her blanket so tightly her knuckles turned white. Even the rest of her complexion had taken on a slightly more pallid tone. 

She had thought about not only a friend as Sirion had been touching her, kissing her. Oh no, it would be so simple if it was someone like Maerhelm. Or, maybe Théodred. They were both lovely men, with their fair hair and bright eyes. But it was not so. Niphrediel had dreamed of an elf. What she had wanted to feel during the moment was not the caress of a Man. It was the touch of an Elf. A Prince. Her Legolas. 

_'It is just a little crush', _Sarilya had said to her, trying to be some comfort. _'Stay away from him, and everything will be fine! You just wait and see!'_

In the name of all that was good and holy… Niphrediel hoped Sarilya was right. To say the very least… Niphrediel was terrified. 

_Oh, please, Eru, _she prayed as she closed her blood shot eyes. _Do not inflict me so._

  
  
  
  
  


* * *

**Note:** You have no idea how many times I have rewritten the second half of this chapter…. Good god, I could've written an entirely different story with that many wasted pages. There were so many possibilities… and doubled with the fact that I'm so paranoid that I've completely screwed up this enter-romance stuff with Niphrediel that nothing seems to fit right to me…. well…. let's just say it's been a mission. Tell me what you think :) Oh, and Neph wants some Legolas loving…. If you haven't already guessed. She is a hooman, yes (or... is she??? ;) )... no elf4elf stuff over here, I need conflict dammit. Do you think I got it right? What approach would you think is appropriate? Humour me, I'm 100 percent curious ^_^ 

OH! And thankyou all for your amazing support this far. You can't how imagine how cool it's been to improve on my writing with such a great lot of you backing me through every chapter. I'm extremely sorry if any of the content in this edition didn't work for you… I tried my best. R/R me! 

OOOOH! And Merry Belated Christmas! Hope ya'll enjoyed RotK.   



	16. Chapter fifteen: The Taste of Stupidity

**Chapter fifteen: The Taste of Stupidity**

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Niphrediel slept for perhaps an hour, at most. She watched as the dim blue lights shining through her windows eventually brighten into sunlight. The silence in her bedchamber was brought to an end by the sound of birds as they began to awaken, and a flock of white butterflies began to dance in the sunshine as it lost it's pre-morning hue of orange outside of her windows. She did not notice the waking of Sarilya. She did not hear her handmaid stretch like a cat against the mattress of her long-bodied sofa, or hear her happy yawn as she propped herself up against the curved back of the elegant couch. 

"Good morning!" whispered a cheerful Sarilya, as she yawned once more. 

Niphrediel's reverie was broken, and she looked away from the window. She gathered herself up against the fluffy pillows she had neglected through the night, and shifted her lethargic stare over to the morning-friendly Sarilya. "Morning," she replied, her voice matching the expression of her face; deadpan, and somewhat on the borders of ominous. 

"Oh, darn it!" Sarilya abruptly let out, as she got a better view of Niphrediel's face. She pulled back the silken blankets that kept her warm, and moved over to sit upon the edge of Niphrediel's bed. "You did not sleep!" she stated Niphrediel's crime, turning Niphrediel's chin to the side with her hand; studying her profile. 

Niphrediel did not deny Sarilya's claim, though she was rather certain she had fallen to sleep briefly sometime during the night. 

"Look at you," Sarilya sighed sadly, removing her hand and letting Niphrediel's face return to its prior angle. "The skin around your eyes is so dark it makes your complexion lighten in comparison. Some folk say death around the eyes is attractive, but I cannot really stand it. It makes someone look bloody overcast even when they smile," Sarilya critiqued with distaste. "We will have to put powder around your eyes or something." 

"No need," Niphrediel waved her hand in dismissal of the idea. "I do not have the inclination to leave my chambers this morning." 

"This is so you will not have to be present for the fun and games for the children?" Sarilya predicted, eyebrows raised that Niphrediel would brush away time with Rivanon, who had been another whose time with Niphrediel was kept brief. "Niphrediel, it is going to last all day." 

Niphrediel did not appreciate Sarilya's lack of receipt. "Well, then I will stay in all day." 

"And what will I say?" Sarilya asked, before gesturing to the dress that was ready for Niphrediel to be dressed into on the far armchair. The gown was predominately black silk, with a white lace underdress, something alike to a belt wrapped beneath would be the breast of the garment, made of the same black lace. The skirt parting began early just bellow the chest, and the necklace was not very low— but wide. "I apologise for the absence of my lady, she is sleeping?" 

"I apologise for the absence of my lady as she is taken with flu," Niphrediel snapped matter-of-factly, before flicking the blankets back and stepping off her bed. "Make up something, I do not care what." 

Sarilya watched Niphrediel walk from her bed without impressment. "Fine," she muttered. "If you would rather hide like a child in your bedroom, I shan't stop you." 

"I am not hiding, Sarilya," Niphrediel retorted, looking over at Sarilya with a frown that told her that she was not in the mood to set her facts straight. "I just do not have the energy to be cordial. Send everyone my condolences." 

Sarilya sighed, but accepted Niphrediel's explanation even if she did think that the girl had better get used to having to be sociable. "Fine," she said. "But you better have a bath anyway… if you grow tired of your confinements, it would not be right walking outside looking like an idler." 

"I will have one later on in the day," said Niphrediel from her window, opening the shudders and squinting in the light. She crossed her arms as she gazed out, the lack of sleeves on her long white nightgown of linen enabling her to feel the texture of her own skin and nothing else. She looked back at Sarilya after a moment. "You should go and get ready." 

"Right, you are," Sarilya said as she stood up and retied her bed-ravaged hair with a ribbon. "I will see that some breakfast, lunch and dinner is brought up for you. If not by me: then another servant. Without you present, I will not be expected to stay in the gardens for too long… I will return in a few hours." 

Niphrediel simply nodded, and watched Sarilya quickly gather her things. Perhaps she predicted that Niphrediel would step out of her room sometime during the day, for she briefly stared at the laid-out gown in contemplation, before moving towards the door. Sarilya decided not to place the garment back in the wardrobe. 

Sarilya stiffened before walking out, and looked back at Niphrediel. Her expression was much softer, and her gaze was incredibly apologetic. "I am sorry for my rough approach," she said to Niphrediel then, her voice conveying her genuine regret. "Just… do not ever think I would not be understanding of your problems with… well…. you-know-what, my lady. I am with you in this, you know— I am there for you in whatever way you wish me to be." Sarilya curtseyed formally to her princess, before leaving the room. 

Niphrediel stiffened, as the room grew cold without Sarilya's presence. Sooner then when she had planned, she moved to the bathing hall and ran her a bath. But, instead of getting out— Niphrediel snatched a towel she could rest her head on, and let herself bask in the temporary weightlessness. 

Staring up at the ceiling, Niphrediel listened to the calm rhythm of water tricking from her long limbs each time she would let her arms raise over the water level. It was the perfect environment to think… and, despite Niphrediel's reluctance to think on a few pressing matters— her brain did not seem to acknowledge her lack of zest. 

Niphrediel's hands ran over her head. She washed the skin there, as well as the flesh of her legs; in an attempt to wash the past night away. But it did no good. If anything, her actions brought the memories back with more detail. She felt lips against her skin as she scrubbed her neckline, and caught the vision of a face too beautiful to belong to a mortal out of the corner of her eye as she pressed his mouth against hers. 

Niphrediel knew she had felt much better when she had opened her eyes to see that Sirion had been replaced. She had not wanted him to be the very first boy to kiss her properly, or to touch her briefly like how Niphrediel was taught only her beloved should. But Niphrediel did not love Legolas. He was her friend. She was his friend. Nothing else. 

The princess hugged her knees against her chest and brought her face down so that her brow rested against her kneecaps. She took a deep breath and ignored her stinging eyes. She felt like she wanted to vomit and roll up and hide under a rock all at once. How could she have bastardised their friendship? She had completely insulted Legolas for imagining him in such a way, a noble and honourable creature such as he. He was above all that— and far above Niphrediel, to say the least. 

Legolas did not need anything like that from Niphrediel. He would not appreciate it. He would…. become uncomfortable or frustrated or angry that she had brought anything sexual into her half of their friendship. That she had perverted the meaning in their closeness. 

_'How dare you_,' Niphrediel imagined him yelling at her. _'How dare you think of me in such a way— I thought we were friends, Niphrediel! You are just a young, stupid little girl… why would you imagine such things? You brought me down to such a level— gah, how dare you!!'_

Niphrediel had complicated a basic friendship for the worst. Worst of all, she had done it unknowingly and innocently; she had no idea what she was doing the night before, she only knew that it felt perfect to think that the owner of the mouth that was roughly biting into hers was her archer friend. 

"An elf, Niphrediel," she murmured against her knees, eyes pinched closed. "An elf." 

An elf… something Niphrediel was not. Immortal…. another aspect that Niphrediel lacked. Yes, she had to remind herself of those two very important things. Perhaps it would get the fact into her head that there was no hope thinking or desiring or pondering or dreaming about things that would only confuse and hurt and anger her. She was not an elf and nor was she immortal, and that was it. Nothing more. 

Niphrediel turned to lie on the side of her head, and forced herself to nap. If only for the briefest of moments. 

However, the knocking of her bedchamber door interrupted her moment of peace. Niphrediel regretted that she had left the door, which connected the bedchamber to the bath hall open, and quickly wrapped a robe around herself before going to answer the door. 

"What?" Niphrediel knew she sounded horrible and regretted it as she looked upon the young girl standing behind a trey on the other side. She smiled quickly, hoping it would make her appear more kind and grateful. "Oh, I am sorry— let me take that for you." Niphrediel took the back handle of the trey and inclined her brow before pulling it through the door. 

The young maid curtseyed before closing Niphrediel's door and running back down the hall. 

Niphrediel wrapped her dripping hair in a towel before sitting down on a sofa and eating some of the food that had been served on the tray. Pastries, sausages, fruit, and cakes— the selection was lovely. But Niphrediel took no pleasure in each bite she took. She may as well have been feeding on dirt. 

Well….. maybe not…. Niphrediel did really like the pastries. 

The door knocked again as Niphrediel finished her third pastry, and though she was surprised; she supposed it must have been the maid. Perhaps she had forgotten something on the trey? Niphrediel stood up and made her way back to the door, and swung it open. 

She immediately regretted opening it when she saw that it was not the maid standing on the other side. Instead of feeling butterflies, or having her heart skip— or any other type of romantic mumbo-jumbo— Niphrediel was annoyed. _Why did he have to come here?_ Niphrediel did not want to see him, she did not want to speak with him, she did not want anything to do with him, at the moment. 

"What?" Niphrediel did not care that she sounded like an old, angry crone. She let the door swing against her, instead of leaving it wide enough that her visitor could brush passed. 

Legolas seemed to shrivel up like an embarrassed child at receiving such a harsh reception. He clasped his hands behind his back, which forced him to stand up straight, and his eyes lowered to the floor. "Well, I…" he stammered, shrugging his shoulders. "You did not come down with Sarilya." 

"Yes," Niphrediel said with a nod of her head. "I know." 

Legolas was not unintelligent. He took a step back, lowering his chin. Niphrediel could see his confidence shrinking before her eyes— it was almost amazing how much she could affect him so easily. It was too bad that Niphrediel refused to care right that moment. 

"Are you… all right?" Legolas asked, his voice becoming less self-assured and clear. He looked up at Niphrediel with a frown, his eyes roaming her face as if he did not recognise what he was looking at. 

"I am fine," Niphrediel muttered, frustrated. She frowned right back, except her brow displayed impatience and aggravation. Her stare was cold, but the most of the harsher emotions that flashed within them were feigned. "What do you want?" 

"I just wanted to see if you wanted to come down to the garden," he responded, trying not to sound overly timid. "Just… it is very entertaining having fun with the children— I did not know wether you would want to miss out. Rivanon is having a very good time." 

"Anything else?" Niphrediel began to hate herself then. Her justifications for why she was acting so cruel ceased to make sense. But she could not possibly become bright and cheery— she could not revert back. Niphrediel kept her aloof expression on, but she began hoping any moment that Legolas was going to walk away so she would not have to say anything else with such venom on her tongue. 

Legolas looked back up. His brow furrowed all the more as the strength of his stare intensified. "Have I done something wrong?" he asked her solemnly. "Are you angry with me? Is everything well?" 

Niphrediel inwardly groaned, glancing over her shoulder to her room. She thought of closing the door in the elf's face for a moment, so that she would not have to answer; but she could not do it. "No, nothing is wrong," she retorted. "It would be none of your business even if something _was_ wrong." 

Legolas stiffened, and his chin rose. "I did not deserve that," he told her. 

"Fine," Niphrediel snapped, before giving a mock-wave in surrender with her left hand. "Whatever you say." 

"What have I done wrong?" Legolas asked her again, with more desperation and exasperation. 

Niphrediel's jaw tightened. "Nothing!" she exclaimed. "Just leave me alone?" 

_"Leave you alone?"_ Legolas echoed Niphrediel's question, a look of confusion smacked on his face. "Who do you think you are talking to, Niphrediel? I am your friend." 

Niphrediel forced herself to nonchalantly shrug. She knew Legolas wanted to slap the smug expression off her face, though he could never raise a hand against a woman. "I am sorry, but I do not feel like caring at the moment." Niphrediel was not lying. 

"Well, _excuse me_ for giving a care," Legolas said sharply. "Your Rivanon is running around the place asking where _Caeleb _is and I look over and see that the chair between Arwen and Sarilya is empty, so I use my initiative to come to your chamber to see what is happening— and you greet me in this manner?" 

"Oh stop whinging," Niphrediel retorted quickly, in an attempt to not focus on what Legolas had said about Rivanon. "You have said what you have had to say. Goodbye, Legolas." In a casual but forceful manner, Niphrediel began to close her door. 

Suddenly, as if remembering something, Legolas's hand lashed out and blocked the door. "Niphrediel, did something happen last night?" Even when she was horrible to him, Legolas still cared. His voice was gruff and firm, but she could hear his concern and immediate awareness. 

With a groan, Niphrediel shook her head and put all her weight onto the door. It closed with a bang, and she flipped the lock so that Legolas could not force it open a moment afterwards. Niphrediel stepped away from the door as she heard a fist bang against the lebethron wood before silence returned. 

Niphrediel hung her head and automatically felt awful for her behaviour. Treating him horribly had made her feel both better and worse. She liked that she had taken some of her aggression out on Legolas, but the guilt of knowing that he truly did not deserve any of it was wicked. 

If Legolas's plan was to take Niphrediel to the gardens, in some way he had succeeded. Niphrediel knew she was going to go down, and it angered her in a way. She did not want to bother with greeting people who would not care if not for the invisible crown around her forehead. She did not want to get changed or think up some pleasant way to do her hair so that she could fit the profile of a 'royal' or a 'noble'. The life of a princess was not what she wanted right then, when she wanted nothing but peace and quiet and privacy. 

Niphrediel took as long as she could to prolong her time in her room. She ate her breakfast slowly; despite the fact that her appetite had practically demolished the moment she had shunned Legolas from her doorway. She combed her hair with extra thoroughness before shoving the most of it into a tidy bun. With her unskilled hands, the bun was loose and would probably end up falling out of place; but it would do. 

She dried herself properly before putting the gown on. The sleeves felt nice against her skin, cool and soft as silk was supposed to be, and they were not overly flared or heavily bell-shaped so it was no effort to lift her arms. She admired it, and took off her whistle and Gimli's ring— leaving only Théodred's ruby-studded band, which she had never taken off. Niphrediel found an ordinary black line of lace and hooked it around her neck and pinned it at the back so that no one would be able to see the love bites on the left side. It was good enough; besides, she could not find another sort of chocker. 

Niphrediel shoved on a pair of slippers before leaving the room. She walked through the corridors, and noticed how little guards populated the passageways. Her stride was swift, a great change from the lax movement she performed in her chamber. She did not want to go to the gardens, but she would rather hurry up and get to where she was going instead of moving through the passageways like a snail. 

She slipped through into the empty dining hall with a quiet sigh, and made her way across the floor towards the entryway into the veranda. Niphrediel paused and leaned against the stone railing of the veranda, looking over the garden. 

It was disgusting how fun everything had been made out to be. There were decorations on the trees, and vines of paper balloons hanging from one branch to another. It was like an arena— a stand had been made where the royalty were seated. Most adult folk had prepared their own stools to sit upon, or had simply taken to the soft green grass. The children played and squealed as they played with each other, and some of the elves and other folk who had taken to joining along. 

Niphrediel looked away, gritting her teeth, and made her way down. She made sure not to draw any attention to herself, for she did not want people to notice her entrance. She would have to smile and nod if anyone did notice the Princess of Gondor and Arnor descending the stone steps to the first veranda, and then down the second row to the grass. She lowered her head as a few people brushed passed her, as she had made her way up the three wooden steps which took her to the left side of the rectangular canopy that shaded the stands of the King and Queen. 

The guard who stood there simply bowed his head to Niphrediel as she quickly passed, moving in front of Sarilya as she sat upon her comfortable stool before collapsing down on the empty wooden chair of her own. A rather handsome pot plant separated Niphrediel from Arwen, so her arrival was not noticed by either of them. 

Sarilya smiled and let out a short gasp in surprise as she watched Niphrediel slide into the chair beside her. Wordlessly, Sarilya leant against the thick wooden arm of the princess's chair, waiting as Niphrediel settled onto her seat and crossed one leg over another before following suite and leaning against the wooden arm herself. Their hands instinctively clasped each other. 

The children were gathered together in a strange game, which consisted of someone throwing a leather-bound ball to one of the children who used a rounded paddle to hit it as hard as they could. The other children would have to try and get the ball, and then get it to the person who had thrown it to the 'batter' before the 'batter' ran to the tree six or so meters to the left and right back to where they were before. The children loved it. 

A few of the older Gondorian children, who must have been fourteen or so, stood at the further reaches of the garden— where they would not be able to take over the game from the younger children. They flirted with each other, laughing and squealing as only the young could. Glorfindel looked over a small group of Raewyn's orphans, as did a few ellith. Legolas stood in the centre, where he would carefully (and slowly) throw a ball to whichever child he elected to be the batter. 

Legolas lifted Rivanon, after he rushed up to him to hand the ball over to him. The ten year old boy who had been batting had not made it back to the starting spot in time, so all the children clapped and cheered. Even the outed batter dropped his bat to give Rivanon a clap. Both Legolas's and Rivanon's hair shone in the sunlight as Legolas twirled him around. As Legolas put Rivanon down, and Elanor ran up beside him and clasped his shoulder; he looked at Niphrediel. But he looked away just as quickly, as Elanor's laughter caught his attention. 

_"Just calf-love, my lady," _came Sarilya's whispered words, her hand tightening on Niphrediel's. 

Niphrediel nodded once, needing her words for a moment to regain focus. Her eyes shifted into a squint, making it appear that she was glaring instead of fighting back moisture that would make her eyes appear somewhat glassy. 

_…And you met beautiful elf maiden called Elanor…_

_…With eyes of bright blue and hair so golden one could swear golden stars twinkled from them…_

_…Elanor is so beautiful and lovely, everyone absolutely adores her…_

_…you marry her right away…_

_…I will die…_

_…happily…_

Niphrediel had to stop herself from physically shaking her head. She placed her fist near her mouth, biting the tip of her thumb to stop her eyes from liquefying her shame. Niphrediel _did not_ want the future that she had playfully predicted so long ago. Her gut churned and her heart slowed it's rhythm at the very thought. Every inch of her body and soul agreed in unison that they would rather rot then see Niphrediel's prophecy come into being. What did Niphrediel want to happen instead? She did not care. 

But… Who was little miss Elanor, anyway? What right did she have to speak and dance with Legolas one evening, and assume that they had a good enough relationship to regard him as her _friend?_ Was she some… some evil creature that had made itself a body just to spite her? 

Niphrediel watched her. She stared with hating eyes as she exuded beauty as the sun radiated light. She wished the elleth would turn into some disgusting demon. Something hideous and smelly and evil so that she could have a fair reason to want to run a dagger through her stomach. If Niphrediel's frown could darken more, it did so then; and her eyes closed momentarily in a silent plea to whatever could have heard her thoughts— to transform the object of her abhorrence into something that made her loathe and jealousy justifiable. 

But Elanor did not change. Her smile did not waver; her hair did not cease to shine or her skin to glow. She remained brilliant. But it became too much for Niphrediel when the elleth moved down onto her knees; arms wide for Rivanon to run into. Niphrediel's blood boiled within a split second and before she knew it, she stood up; letting Sarilya's hands go in doing so. 

"Rivanon!" 

Suddenly, the game was brought to a halt. Conversations between each person who had gone to watch or join in the fun were brought to an immediate stop. Even the children, too young to realise the grandness of Niphrediel's status, ceased to chatter and laugh— following the reactions of the grown-up folk. 

Rivanon, poised ready to run to Elanor, stopped in his tracks and quickly turned around. His eyes were wide, and mouth agape— he knew that voice. He forgot about the elleth instantly. Niphrediel wished a certain someone would follow suite. 

Niphrediel stiffened, incapable of speech, as she looked from one face that had turned to regard her, and then another. She was not used to being able to invoke such notice with one word and she probably never would. She quickly composed herself as the silence dragged on for a moment too long, and spoke. 

"Come here," she said, trying to sound as sweet and as oblivious as possible. She managed a smile, and even to appear calm when inside, every organ in her body told her to take the child and run. Not able to think of a better solution, Niphrediel did just that once Rivanon ran up to the stands and passed the guards. 

"Caeleb!" he squealed as he walked up the last stair. 

Ignoring the stunned stare that Sarilya was directed up at her, Niphrediel walked passed her and meet Rivanon at the stair. She picked him up effortlessly, hugging and holding him against her at once as she walked briskly down them and walked through the forest path of the garden; leaving the games and a frowning Aragorn behind her. 

Niphrediel tried not to jog as she furthered herself into the heart of the tidy garden. She disliked how orderly it was; how obvious it was that gardeners cared it for. Niphrediel disliked its uniformity and tidiness… it ruined it's purpose, in her opinion, since the very reason gardens were so beautiful for her were that they brought a touch of nature. If she was not mistaken, nature did not keep lawns perfectly trimmed or hedges shaped like cubes. 

Almost in a need to escape it, Niphrediel turned and walked off the cobbled path and into the trees and scrub. Even in the parts that were unseen from the paths, the forest floor was even and tidy. Summer had treated it with kindness, as well as the gardeners that cared for even the least visible gathering of flowers. 

"Caeleb, Caeleb, Caeleb!" giggled Rivanon, so close to Niphrediel's ear that she almost smiled as she carefully stepped onto the trunk of a tree which has tipped over to rest against another tree; which was the only thing that kept it from resting on the hearth. Using it as a bridge, Niphrediel walked towards it's brunches which protruded upwards like arrows to the sun; the upwards-tilt of the bridge subtle enough for Niphrediel to be confident that she would not trip over her skirt. 

At the end, Niphrediel rested up against the trunk of the second tree with Rivanon in her lap. She pulled her knees up and hugged the child against herself. Rivanon propelled himself on his booted feet, which were planted on the surface of the trunk at either side of Niphrediel's stomach, which enabled him to stand above her. His legs had grown since the last time Niphrediel had seen him. 

There was a look of awe in Niphrediel's eyes as her chin rose, so that she could look up at Rivanon who looked with childish curiosity down on her, as tears rolled from the corners of them. His tiny hands came up and patted the top of Niphrediel's head. He had always held such fascination and adoration for her hair— and even when he was in a realm of folk with the same trait, he had no such interest for anyone else. 

His palms came to rest on her cheeks, and Rivanon frowned in concentration as he pushed her muscles upwards— forcing Niphrediel to smile. Niphrediel complied without resistance, and chuckled some. 

"No cry," Rivanon announced matter-of-factly, his voice quiet and husky for a child's. His palms released their occupation of Niphrediel's face, and though the stretched curve of Niphrediel's mouth decreased; she continued to smile for him. Her smile was a sad one however… and perhaps Rivanon knew that, for he did not say a word. He simply sat back down on Niphrediel and placed his head over her heart. Her arms drew around him protectively a moment afterwards, and Niphrediel closed her eyes. 

Rivanon never shifted or struggled for Niphrediel to let him go. He rested against her and drew his hand up so that he could suck on his thumb once he began to get tired. Niphrediel's arms kept him warm as he closed his eyes and began to nap, as Niphrediel stared off onto the forest floor with a distant gaze. She wished in that moment that she and Rivanon could stay there forever, with his little body wrapped in her arms. Children were such magical creatures. With Rivanon's simple affection, Niphrediel was reminded that… that it was not the end of the world. 

_Then why do I feel like it is?_

Niphrediel sighed and tried not to cringe. She cared for Legolas. Too much. She dared not try to describe her emotions because she was more afraid of knowing what she was feeling then not. She was afraid to know how she felt, afraid to realise exactly how much change the night before had made in her life. Had she always felt so strongly and the night with Sirion was just a way of her mind letting her know how she felt? Or had the night with Sirion initiated everything? 

Niphrediel did not want to know. She did not want to think. She did not want to breathe. 

Yet, she did both as her stare was drawn to the sole figure stumbling through the bush far from her left. Automatically, the dire expression began to take Niphrediel's face over until she saw that over his eyes was a black blindfold. The echoes of laughter caught her ears, and Niphrediel turned her head in the other direction to see a small group of children separating into several hiding places. It was only because Niphrediel sat high on the tree that she could see those things, however. Had she been on the forest floor, there would be no way she could see either of the two sights. 

Niphrediel's gaze softened on Legolas as he walked slowly, cautiously and most importantly: blind. His other senses must have been on full alert, but Niphrediel could have easily been mistaken for a hiding game contender. Her frown fell from her brow as she reminded herself that she could pull any face she wanted and he would not know. She gave herself permission to admire him from afar as she would have never done before. It was strange how the little things about him were noticeable to her then. Like how tall he was, and the width of his broad shoulders— or simply how… beautiful he was. 

Niphrediel should not have been looking at him that way. She knew it. But she gave herself a moment to admire at the only time that he would have no idea. But as Rivanon let out a yawn, and Legolas's head snapped in her direction, Niphrediel's moment was broken. 

She saw how his direction changed, and he slowly made his way towards the tree. It was a fair walk, far enough for her to be able to get off and leave cleanly if he kept his pace so slow. The woken Rivanon did not make another sound as Niphrediel rose to her feet and gathered him into her arms. Her gaze bobbed from the potential footstep in front of her and Legolas as Niphrediel began her wary descent. Niphrediel noticed quickly, as Legolas's steps became quicker and more confident, that she had underestimated him. 

With Rivanon in her arms, Niphrediel was not about to risk rushing down. Why she did not just tell him to go away was something of a mystery to Niphrediel. She did not want to speak to him. She, really, did not want to speak at all. Her moment with Rivanon had not ended so that she would start muttering moodily to her _friend _which would might cause a drift between them… But, Niphrediel knew that a drift between them was needed. She _had _to stop thinking of him so… unrealistically. It was _not _right. 

She let Rivanon run in front of her as Niphrediel finally stepped onto the hearth, and dodged one of Legolas's hands that had come out to graze her arm. Niphrediel almost tripped over herself, muttering a swearword in the back of her head before backing into a very stupidly positioned redwood tree. With a sigh, she let her arms fall to her sides and surrendered in silence— watching in both unrest and despair as Legolas took a step forward, and then another. 

His hand brushed against her shoulder as they rose to seek out the buffoon who had jumped from the fallen tree so slowly. Legolas's forehead wrinkled in a frown, as the height of Niphrediel's shoulders told him that he had found an adult. He had expected to touch, at the very most, a mop of hair. 

His touch did not give Niphrediel some sort of butterfly explosion in her stomach. Nor did her heart begin to race— but her blood began to warm and she bit down on her tongue to keep her cheeks pale. She looked down at his hand on her shoulder, and then to his other that reached out blindly to graze her jaw: Legolas's attempt to find the captured person's face. 

Niphrediel tensed as both hands took each side of her face, feeling the shape of her jaw and cheeks beneath the skin of his palms. The slowness… Was that not what she wanted, in her own sick way? Niphrediel had got what she wanted— the Valar-defying whore she was— his face was less then thirty centimetres from her own. She could simply lean in… 

And she wanted to. She clenched her fists and pinched her eyes closed as Legolas identified the arch of her eyebrows. She wanted to lean in and smother him with kisses. She wanted to hold his neck and stroke his hair like lovers would and fall back onto the grass with him bellow her. It was absolutely terrifying and Niphrediel knew she should have been disgusted at the desires she felt herself identifying… but she did not. There was not one single limb in her body that rebuked at the idea of embracing him: an elf, a friend, a Prince. 

Legolas's hands stopped as his finger grazed the corner of her jaw and felt the slightly rougher flesh of her otherwise indistinguishable scar. His body tensed, and even with her eyes closed— Niphrediel could imagine his expression being one of disappointment. She betted he was hoping that it was Elanor standing in front of him rather then her, with nothing but the trees around them. She suspected that he would have leaned in and kissed Elanor right then and there if it were her standing in Niphrediel's place. 

Legolas's hands drew away rapidly as if he touched a flame rather than the simple flesh of a human girl, and he rushed to take off the blindfold. As the strip of fabric was thrown over his shoulder, he looked down with a concerned stare upon Niphrediel, the slightest hint of a frown on his immaculate brow. "Niphrediel?" he asked gently, holding one hand upon her temple, and willing her left eye to open with his thumb upon her lid. "Hey, it is only I— Legolas." 

His eyes caught the damp residue of Niphrediel's recent tears that Rivanon had not noticed, and his gaze darkened. That was what Niphrediel saw when her eyes opened; the thoughtful look in his eyes, both dark and concerned, with his mouth dulled into a firm line. 

"What is the matter?" he asked her the question that had been plaguing his mind all day, letting his hands take her face in their gentle hold once more. He took a step closer, though his person suggested nothing of the passion Niphrediel wanted him to feel for her. He did not have the spark in his eye that she imagined anyone would as they leant in to fervently kiss another. 

"Nothing," she told him again— except her voice was almost broken that time, forced into a whisper; and her eyes spoke of sadness and disappointment. 

Legolas shook his head, bringing his forehead to rest against hers. "Do not lie to me," he pleaded. "I do care for you, Niphrediel." 

_Not in the way I care for you. _"I am not lying to you," Niphrediel whispered back, the same pleading tone in her voice as she willed him to stop caring. If he stopped being so perfect, then she would not be having so much trouble restraining herself! 

"You promise?" Legolas regarded Niphrediel unblinkingly, as he slowly pulled his brow away from hers a fraction. His eyebrows were high, and his eyes forgiving on Niphrediel as he expected her to finally tell him what had troubled her to such a degree. He had absolutely no idea that he was actually the problem. 

Niphrediel forced herself to keep to her lie. "I swear," she whispered. 

"Very well," Legolas said, a little louder; but nonetheless gentle, before pulling her into him. He gave her a long hug, and it was a long moment before Niphrediel began to embrace him back. When she did though, she clutched him tightly, as if her body had only just recognised the notion, and pressed her face against his shoulder. She did not cry, as least not on the outside. She did not want to ruin his beautiful silver tunic with her stupid, shame-ridden tears. 

Legolas deserved more then that.   
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


Niphrediel was attempting to clear her mistrusted mind with a book when there was a knock at the door. The evening had come and dinner was being prepared so she had decided to retire for a moment to spend some time alone before having to put on a feigned happy-face for dinner. She sat with the leather-cased book on her lap; using the light of the nearest candle, and the fireplace, to enable her to read the handwritten words, as the sound of a tapping fist upon the wood reached her eyes. 

At first, Niphrediel thought she had not truly heard anything until there was a second knock. Changed into a dress, which had a neckline, much to Niphrediel's dislike, identical to that of her plunging-necked nightgowns— of a sweet, light blue colour, Niphrediel thought she most prepared for a visitor. She did not understand why Sarilya thought it was so important to change from her ordinary gown to another for dinner, but Sarilya simply insisted that it was improper for women in courtly company to enter a dinner in the same attire they had been sweating and rolling about in since morning. 

From bellow Niphrediel's bosom, the garment flared out to show the underdress of white linen beneath it. It was a very pretty thing, trimmed in gold along the neckline and the large oversleeves which lay over her arms, which were snugly confined in the pale white sleeves of the underdress which came to sit high at her palms from all the unconscious tugging she did on them. 

Strangely enough, Niphrediel had no idea how Sarilya had managed it her hair that evening— but her handmaid had somehow forced each strand into a rounded circle upon her head, pulled taut and fastened with rounds of thick golden lace in one clean swoop. A golden circlet of handsome, interwoven vines was born over her brow, then— Niphrediel wondered where all the jewellery was coming from, and where it went after she wore it.She had not yet worn any garment or jewel twice! It was almost atrocious. 

A strand of golden lace was placed around her neck. Sarilya cursed herself for not noticing Niphrediel's 'bruises' sooner then she had, before leaving her lady to her own devices. She could not leave without being Niphrediel to keep her hair in place and not dirty her dress though— she had said it was the most traditional thing Niphrediel had yet warn, so she hoped it would remain immaculate for as long as possible. 

Niphrediel dropped the book on the sofa as she stood up, her hands affectionately fluffing out her skirts. Bright and almost carefree of step, she made her way over to the door and carefully turned the doorknob to see who beckoned her on the other side. She opened the door widely, tilting her head somewhat to the side so she could get a better look and was rather surprised when she saw Aragorn standing on the other side. 

His crown shone in the candlelight, and the red tinges of her tunic contrasted against his complexion as he stood, tall and proud, with his hands clasped behind his back and his head bowed to the last moment. His grey eyes softened as they moved up and saw Niphrediel's face, and her mouth stretched into a smile as Niphrediel's hand fell from the door after pushing it the last centimetre backwards. 

"Aragorn!" Niphrediel almost exclaimed in surprise, blinking twice and straightening. She was not horrified in the least, but she truly did not expect it to be him who stood on the other side of the door so close to dinner. "What on earth are you doing here?" There was obvious delight and a subtle tinge of wryness in her voice as she spoke, and lazily smiled. 

"That is not the way you greet your father," Aragorn quipped, before taking a step forward and bringing his hands to either side of Niphrediel's neck, so that with the sides of his hands beneath her jaw he could raise her chin as such so he could firstly kiss her forehead, and then the highest bud of her left cheek. His arms fell around Niphrediel to give her a long hug straight after, as if he was greeting her after some months apart. 

Even in his fancy garb, he still smelt the same warm way he had when he was fending for himself in the wild whilst going by the name of _Strider. _Like fresh grass, and some sweeter, muskier aroma— Niphrediel closed her eyes briefly before Aragorn slowly released her. 

"We have not had much time together since you arrived," Aragorn said sadly as he released her from his embrace, and yet continued to clasp her hands and press his forehead down against hers. 

Niphrediel shrugged her shoulders. Still, Aragorn's presence had the ability to make her forget of any woe or problem. The subject she had tormented herself on that very morning was momentarily inexistent as his subtle touch reminded her that his magnificent strength stood between her own form and harm. Not even premature heartache could stand up against the figure of Aragorn in her heart. 

"You have been busy," Niphrediel thought aloud, trying to comfort Aragorn in some respect since it did sound as if an apology was about to pass his lips. It was not his fault— he had more to care for than her and Arwen. He was a King. "I respect that." 

"It does not matter," Aragorn smiled, a little wider then he had before. "Time can be altered when you are King. I could order someone to tell me it is lunchtime at midnight, but I cannot find the heart to cancel an assembly so I can spend some time with you." Aragorn pulled his brow back from Niphrediel's then, and a hand rose to rub Niphrediel's arm. 

"How have you been, Neph?" he asked. 

Niphrediel laughed softly, shaking her head. "You came here to ask me how I have been?" she asked him with an arched eyebrow, crossing her arms loosely. 

"Well, yes," Aragorn answered without one hint of scorn, brows raised in solemnity. "Your behaviour has been a little different these past few days and I wanted to make sure everything was well." 

Niphrediel almost blushed— and would have if she were not a little preoccupied with preparing a reply. "I am fine," she said, after a short moment of thought. "Why?" 

Aragorn shifted on his feet, and rubbed his palms together gently is half-hidden awkwardness. "Well… I heard about your dinner with that young lord Sirion." 

"Oh?" Niphrediel asked, trying not to sound overly alarmed. She hoped no stories had begun circulating through the court about what might have happened during their… interesting meal. 

The King simply nodded, and his eyes lowered a fraction. "Well… I was wondering, as all…" he began, before fixing his timid eyes upon her; a gentle plead in them, asking for understanding and compliance. "What is your relationship with him?" 

Niphrediel was stunned silent— before forcing herself to laugh, as one would when they are asked a question of absolute absurdity. "He is my friend, Estel!" she said, making sure there was a certain rise-and-fall jiggle in her shoulders as she laughed, and placing a hand upon her chest to effectively feign minor tiredness. "Just my friend, nothing more." It was not so hard… Niphrediel was not lying. 

"Just your friend?" Aragorn repeated with a great sigh in relief, and a boyish smile appearing on his mouth. "I hate to say it, Niphrediel, but I am rather relieved." 

Niphrediel's brows quirked, and she tilted her head a fraction to her left as she regarded Aragorn for a moment. Her smile had dwindled, and her gaze had narrowed. "Relieved?" she asked. "Why so?" 

Aragorn simply smiled, taking Niphrediel's hand and leading her to the sofa to sit down. He was thankful, as his limbs fell upon soft cushion, and his back became supported by the arch of the fine couch. Aragorn had not had much time to relax since his accession so he enjoyed even the slightest moment of being able to lounge back. "Oh, just Legolas," he answered. 

"What about him?" Niphrediel asked a little too fast. Aragorn's eyebrow arched a fraction, and he was silently peering at her before giving any sort of response. As he looked at her, Niphrediel tried not to look too panicked. 

"Nothing really…" Aragorn replied, with a gentle shrug of his shoulders. "I think he is just a little concerned. He must not like the young Sirion much— he mentioned that your mood had not been as congenial as usual after your evening with him." 

Niphrediel chewed on her bottom lip, taking a moment to consider Aragorn's words. Was she supposed to be alarmed or grateful to have Legolas's concern? Niphrediel was almost annoyed— it was none of his business. Even then, she would have thought Legolas would have known not to go to Aragorn with any of his problems concerning her. 

It was almost impolite. 

Niphrediel's stare trailed off to the corner of the room, and for a moment— Aragorn thought he had said something wrong. He frowned, and his mouth opened to attempt to change the topic, but Niphrediel suddenly decided to speak. "That is rather strange," she said, distantly, before dragging her eyes down to her lap. "I will have to talk to him about that." 

Niphrediel was absolutely serious. She would speak to Legolas on the topic sometime during the night... if she was not embarrassed enough to speak to him level-headedly.She regretted the events in the woods, since she had been able to think it all over since. She needed to stop being such a crying little baby. 

"Does it trouble you?" Aragorn asked. "Legolas's concerns?" 

A simple shake of her head, was all Niphrediel gave. There was no other choice but to fib a little, unless she wanted to face any more questions."No," she replied, her intonation soft. "No, I am fine." 

Elessar believed his 'daughter's' response, for he simply nodded and looked away from her— to a painting on the opposite wall in front of him. "Good, good. He cares for you very much, you know," he said offhandedly. 

Niphrediel neither shrugged nor nodded. "I know." Her voice was meek. _Stop, Aragorn._

"I think it is very…" Aragorn paused for a moment, rising to his feet with a reasonably long hesitance. "Sweet," he concluded. "Glorfindel thinks it is rather hilarious." 

"Glorfindel would think that," Niphrediel murmured, looking up at Aragorn as he rose to tower above her, standing straight. "Where are you going?" 

"Where are _we_ going, you mean," Aragorn corrected pointedly, before extending his hand for Niphrediel to take. "Dinner calls, eh?" 

Niphrediel simply nodded and took Aragorn's hand with one of her own. She pulled herself up onto her feet, and she and Aragorn slowly made their way to the door. "Aragorn?" Niphrediel asked, closing the door to her bedchamber behind them. "That elf lady, Elanor… do you know her?" 

Aragorn tried not to shoot Niphrediel a curious look as he kept his eyes fixed on the floor before her, moving his arm around her waist in an almost protective gesture as they began to pass the citadel guards— who silently placed their rests against the flat of their breastplates as Aragorn passed them. 

"I met her briefly," he replied, at length. "She seemed nice. Why do you ask?" 

Niphrediel shook her head, as they rounded a corner and walked through into the doors of the dining hall. Folk tipped their glasses, bowed their heads, and curtseyed as they moved towards their table, where Arwen and Sarilya were already waiting, and standing in silence. "No reason," Niphrediel finally replied, before kissing Aragorn's check and moving to stand between Arwen and Sarilya upon the dais. 

"Friends!" began Aragorn with a sweep of his gilded hand, after he came to stand beside his queen. He paused a moment, waiting for the whispers to cease, before speaking again. "As another evening of joviality comes and goes… As some of you all plan for your long journeys home… I just would like to say that these past few days'… weeks… In time, may they not be so precious— may finer, better days come, to better even this time of celebration; for a lifetime of peace and prosperity meets us. May compassion and more days of joy follow you all!" 

He was still very inspirational, Niphrediel thought. Even though her eyes remained transfixed on her clasped hands at her front, and her face remained distinctly unmoving. A deep sigh past through her lips as she considered Aragorn's short speech, as cheering and great applause erupted in the hall from all corners. People were going to start leaving Minas Tirith soon. The hobbits, the Rohirrim… the elves. Niphrediel's subtle peak of mood diminished immediately at the knowledge… Legolas was going to leave. 

Niphrediel's hands clenched each other firmly; her tight clasp turning her very knuckles white from pressure. Her eyes glimmered for a brief, uncontrollable moment. She mastered the sudden, potential burst of emotion quickly though— and the moisture drew away. A long breath of relief left her mouth as she felt Aragorn and Arwen turn to move to their seats. Like a well-taught hound, Niphrediel turned and followed. 

Dinner proceeded, though Niphrediel did not eat. She sat on her chair like a princess would, with her plate filled to its last inch from Sarilya's insisting. But Niphrediel did not stray from the bowl of grapes set beside her gigantic plate of beautifully prepared meat and vegetables. And even then, Niphrediel gathered no pleasure from eating each plump, purple fruit. It was merely a diversion— of the figure who sat on a flanking table, beside a dwarf and a giggling elleth. 

When she did look up, though— it was not an elf, which her eyes set upon, but a soldier and lord sitting stoically at his table. With the same lack of hunger, he noticed Niphrediel looking at him with his own unhappy eyes. As if they shared some sort of secret joke between them, their expressions brighten in unison— and they looked to each other with comforting smiles. 

Niphrediel had to excuse herself when the dancing began. But she did not entirely retire— she simply made her way outside to the balcony for a little fresh air. She leaned her elbows on the railing; her face held emotionlessly in her hands. She rubbed her tired eyes with a mixture of a yawn and a groan, before removing her hands and clasping them together against the railing. 

Sirion carefully tiptoed beneath the banner that hung over the entryway to the balcony, his garb simple— but very tidy and attractive to the eye. His tunic and the style of his belt suited him. One of his hands absently came up to brush through his carefully oiled hair as he neared Niphrediel's side; he was proud of his appearance that evening, at the least. He looked very becoming. 

"You look as lovesick as I feel," he said quietly, his footsteps coming to a stop. "How are you, princess?" 

Sirion's presence pleased Niphrediel. She smiled and glanced towards him as he slung his arms over the railing edge to her left. "I am well enough," she said with a wide, wry smile. "And you? Is the night's festivities to your liking?" 

"Oh, of course— this is all absolutely wonderful," exaggerated Sirion with a charming grin from ear-to-ear. "It is truly times like this when I am thankful that I force myself out of bed each morning. Wouldn't you agree?" 

They both giggled, and Niphrediel lightly patted Sirion's hand with a wry look that displayed boredom, even though she remained smiling all the while. "Yes, I agree with you entirely." They both sobered quickly then, and Niphrediel's gaze on Sirion was kind as she asked: "What is her name?" 

Though his eyes were set upon the outer reaches beyond the edge of the balcony, Sirion understood Niphrediel and recognised the kindness in her voice. Although his face remained somewhat expressionless, he answered her with a voice that suggested no cold or callous emotion. "Rosenwen." 

"Ah," Niphrediel considered his answer with a prolonged nod of her head. "Rosenwen. A bard?" 

"A scullery maid," Sirion corrected with wide grin and a lowered forehead, then he and Niphrediel chuckled for a short moment. "She has… decided through and through that our match would never be accepted. By noble society and the court, as well as my father. She argues that she is not worthy of my affections— let alone my time. She exaggerates the difference between us… our personalities, our obligations, our lifestyle." 

Niphrediel smiled sympathetically up at Sirion. "She exaggerates?" she asked, doubt in her tone. 

Sirion chuckled beneath his breath— his rhythm warm and self-pitying. "Perhaps not," he answered. "She is right in some respect. She lives so different to me… and my father." 

"What do you think will happen between you two?" Niphrediel asked after a brief moment of consideration. 

"I truly do not know," Sirion admitted. "At this point I am hoping that I shall wake up tomorrow and discover that it everything I feel for her right now was a complete fabrication, or at the most a simple attraction." 

Niphrediel shook her head with a grin. "Fair enough," she said. 

_"Niphrediel?"_

With her breath lodged stubbornly in her throat, Niphrediel whizzed around quickly. "Legolas!" Niphrediel's voice shrunk to a shriek when she came to pronouncing the second syllable of his name, and with a cough, she silenced herself. Her smile was forced and too wide, and Niphrediel felt her cheeks flare as she leaned away from Sirion— as if she had been caught doing something wrong, as if the distance between herself and Sirion gave suggestion of something sinister. 

She imagined how it seemed to Legolas, as he stood in the middle of the entryway— his posture straightened that extra fraction, and his eyes dark. He appeared to be sizing Sirion up in an odd way, his eyes looking him from head to toe— lingering particularly on his face and eyes— between brief glances to Niphrediel. Niphrediel wondered what he assumed, with the very position of her and Sirion's bodies toward each other so clearly seen. And how close they stood to each other, talking quietly to each other. 

Just like Legolas and Elanor. 

Niphrediel coughed and cleared her throat roughly behind a raised hand, trying to ignore the hot swells that were her cheeks. She noticed the obvious attention Legolas was paying Sirion, and saw the nonchalant response Sirion's expression gave the elf in response. Sirion simply leaned back against the rail, the very tips of his mouth upturned in an almost dark, yet strangely polite, grin. Had Sirion and Niphrediel actually been anything more then friends— it would appear that Sirion's very expression would have condemned them both right then. 

She spoke quickly, in the hopes that, perhaps, Legolas would look away— and, hopefully, to reinforce the fact that nothing suspicious had been taking place. In that moment, Legolas reminded her of Beren eyeing up a rabbit he had caught beneath his paws, before he set his teeth upon its neck. "Um— what are you doing outside of the ball?" she blurted out with a pleading smile. "Elanor might be keen for a dance." 

Niphrediel almost let out a sigh in relief when Legolas looked toward her, and his eyes softened a little. But only for a moment. "There's a foul draft coming in," he said, casual but matter-of-factly, his chin rising ever so slightly as he glanced again to Sirion. He turned to his side, an unspoken motion that he either wished Niphrediel to walk passed him— or follow him. "Come along inside." 

Niphrediel certainly did not feel this 'draft'. And, since elves were immune to the cold— she wondered if Legolas felt it too. But she simply nodded, like an obedient child, and took a step toward the entryway. "Goodbye, Sirion," she said, looking back over her shoulder. 

Sirion continued to slouch against the rail, but sent Niphrediel a wink and inclination of his brow. "Highness," he said, and Niphrediel shook her head while swallowing down a chuckle til' she was behind the banner. She noticed it took Legolas a moment before following her, and she felt her eyebrow quirk for a brief second. 

"Where is Elanor?" Niphrediel asked nonchalantly as Legolas came to stand beside her, both of them looking out over the dance floor. She rubbed her palms together, as if she truly was intent to find the elleth somewhere in the throng when, really, she would hardly be bothered if she never saw her face again. 

Though it seemed that Legolas wanted to speak of something else— what he had previously walking into, perhaps— he answered Niphrediel with a shrug of his shoulders. Though, without the company of Sirion, the Prince of Mirkwood's expression held far more mirth. "Elanor?" he repeated, casting Niphrediel a clueless look. "Why do you ask?" 

Niphrediel did not hesitate, turning toward Legolas a bit. "Well, I have noticed you have been spending quite a lot of time with her," she said oh-so casually, her eyes roaming over the dancing figures to make it less obvious that she did not wish to look Legolas in the eye as she spoke. "I just would have assumed she would have been on your arm this evening." Niphrediel almost smirked. _Yes, Legolas, **I know**, _she thought. 

If it was not only because she wanted to talk about something on a safe ground, she had asked Legolas about Elanor to see him squirm. 

And he did. Legolas shifted on his finely tailored boots, and tugged at the long panels of his silver tunic. "I am not entirely sure," he replied, though did not appear to so much as glance around the room to see if Elanor was around. 

Niphrediel looked to Legolas then, with a faint frown on her face. What was it that he wanted? "Is there something the matter?" she asked him, unmoving even as she felt Sarilya fall in beside her and slump lovingly against her side. Her Lady-and-Waiting leaned heavily, though not unpleasantly, on her lady, and Niphrediel could feel her chin settle on her shoulder, and two arms wrap around one of hers. 

"There's something wrong?" Sarilya repeated, glancing up to Niphrediel and then Legolas. 

Almost defensively, Legolas shook his head thrice at Sarilya— and seemed to shuffle beneath the gaze of the 'outsider'. "No, nothing's the matter," he said, then seemed to see someone he recognised. He nodded to whomever this person was, before moving to excuse himself. "Pardon me," he murmured politely, before moving away with Niphrediel and Sarilya staring after him. 

Niphrediel and Sarilya stood unmoving for a long moment, til Niphrediel felt Sarilya's chin gently digging into her shoulder as she shook her head. "He is such a weird one," she whispered into Niphrediel's ear, half-laughing; throwing her spare arm around her shoulder. Her eyes sparkled in amusement, the two looked so alike to the group of maidens that were forever separated from a group of young men—whispering to each other behind raised palms. 

Niphrediel could not help but laugh with Sarilya, lowering her chin to the side so that, perhaps, it was not so obvious that they were talking about someone to those who might have noticed their prior interlude with the Mirkwood's Prince. "I know," she replied. "It certainly seems that way tonight." 

When they eventually stopped laughing, they both took a minute to study the elf, as he chattered quietly with Gimli, and another unknown dwarf. Niphrediel had no idea there were visitors of that kind that had arrived! She bit down the urge to run forward and introduce herself— and ask him… or her… a few questions. Niphrediel could not help but wonder if the dwarf was possibly female. Perhaps she was Gimli's… _friend!_

Niphrediel inwardly giggled at the thought. 

"Beautiful though," Sarilya decided at last, tilting her head a fraction to her left. 

Niphrediel shuffled at that, and lowered her head. Sarilya must have noticed her motion, for her arms tightened around her and she quickly thought of a way to brighten the mood. 

"Hey," Sarilya said, her posture straightening. She raised her chin from Niphrediel's shoulder, and turned her mouth towards the taller girl's ear. "Lets go." 

"Go?" Niphrediel repeated, her brows furrowed, shooting Sarilya a somewhat confused look. 

Sarilya simply nodded. "Yes! These formal folk have no idea what a party really is!" She looked to Niphrediel closely to see if her offer was a pleasing one, her own expression bright and mirthful; and her smile broad and playful. With such a face looking up at her— Niphrediel could not help but smile back, and give in. 

"Very well," said Niphrediel, and Sarilya bit her plump, bottom lip to hold back the tiny cheer that would have erupted from her throat. They both giggled in a youthful, carefree manner, before Sarilya grabbed Niphrediel's hand lead them both through the crowd of gathered people, and headed out the door. If only they were more careful about their departure. 

It was simple for them both to get through the gates— what, with so many people walking in and out, that is. They squealed and clung to each other's hands as if they were their very lifelines as they ran through the streets of each darkened tire. 

"Wheeee!" Sarilya cried in glee as they sprinted passed a baker's shop, and then a tailor store, both of which were closed but still populated by their lifeless owners. Although Sarilya ran through a puddle of Ulmo-knows-what, she did not appear to care. The shop-loyal baker stuck his head out the window and cursed loudly at both Sarilya and Niphrediel, but the most of it was drowned out by Sarilya's bold laughter. 

With one hand attached the hand of the other, both spare hands of the two girls were attached to their skirts that they held somewhat aloft. As Niphrediel ran carelessly through the street with Sarilya, she wished for a nice pair of leggings and a brand new pair of boots. Especially when she, too, stomped through a puddle. 

"Ahh!" Niphrediel let out, turning her gaze from the road in front of her to look down at her still-running legs and her black slippers camouflaged in the night. 

"Do not worry!" Sarilya giggled. Although the Lady-in-Waiting kept her eyes focused on what was coming up in front of her, she seemed to know exactly what had happened. "It is only tea!" 

For a brief second, Sarilya turned away to the side of the road where a group of young common boys were walking. Sarilya seemed to know them, for she gave them all a 'hello' and garnered at least seven in response. When Niphrediel and Sarilya had passed them indefinitely, she shot Niphrediel a look. "They must be coming too!" 

"What, Tea?" Niphrediel asked Sarilya belatedly as she avoided a stone in her way, and suddenly skidded to a halt when Sarilya made a curve in direction to head through an alleyway into the next tier. Their pace was altered into a jog, and their hands separated, as they dodged the wooden planks of wood and abandoned pieces of furniture in the narrow, and rather grotty, alley. 

"Be careful of any nails still in any bits of the wood," Sarilya threw back at Niphrediel, her skirt, for the moment, pulled up all the way to her hips as she stepped over what appeared to be a broken wagon wheel. Niphrediel noticed then that Sarilya's hair had come out from her usual tight, orderly bun— her curls cascading around her shoulders as they were meant to, complimenting Sarilya's lovely appearance by adding a certain playful and carefree air. 

Niphrediel hoped, and wondered, if the same was done to her— although she had not felt the lace loosen on her hair, and it would have been disappointing for Sarilya's artwork to be murdered prematurely by a little running. 

"Aye, tea," Sarilya said, bringing her second leg over the wheel, with a faint pant between each of her words. "All the old men and women that work there— all they do is drink tea. Some merchants set up booths there to make a few pennies by selling them tea after letting them have little samples of the merchandise so that they know what they want. At the end of the day and all the tea is cold, they just tip it out on the streets. Hardly tidy." 

Niphrediel let out a sigh in relief as she picked up the wagon wheel and threw it aside, so that she would not have to step over it as Sarilya did. When they reached the alleyway, 'The King's Ale' was just across the street, and even from their Niphrediel could hear the laughter and the instruments of musicians. 

So could Sarilya, obvious, for even as they stood across the street from the entrance, she was bouncing softly to the rhythm of the drum. "Come on, come on," she nagged, bouncing forward to pull Niphrediel out of the mouth of the alleyway. "Here," she said, leaning forward to brush a few wrinkles out of Niphrediel's gown and replace an errant strand of hair behind her ear. "Whee! Lets go!" 

Grabbing Niphrediel's hand, Sarilya adjusted the shoulders of her own wide-necked gown before skipping over the road with her lady close behind. At the entrance, a few old women raised their glasses to the young pair— and, with more knowledge of Gondorian etiquette and acquired ease, Sarilya leaned forward and kissed each one on the cheek before pushing the door open and letting out a cheer as she and Niphrediel skipped inside. 

Like the last time Niphrediel had visited the tavern, there were people everywhere! Though the most were young, a few old-timers hung around with jolly expressions on their faces— the most preferring to sing with their own at the tables and laugh at the silly antics of those of the younger generation who, more often than not, had arrived both in the company of their friends and older relatives. Niphrediel could hear the squeal of two long-separated friends as they met each other again. 

She looked to a table of older men and women, surrounded by a small group of seven young men holding their own pints. Each of them looked towards one young man in particular as he told them all a joke, obviously a grandson of one of the elders sitting at the table, so animatedly that he even pretended to be each person and creature he spoke of with great, and hilarious, detail. Niphrediel thought him a student at the theatre. 

The very air was gold and orange— warm and jovial. 

"Two pints of your sweetest ale, Fat Pa!" yelled Sarilya as she got to the bar, slamming her hand down on it. 

Fat Pa, who Niphrediel assumed was the head barkeep, turned around immediately from the sinks when he heard Sarilya's voice. Indeed, he was large in the belly— and in the arm, leg, and whatever other limb Niphrediel could see; but he had the lovely features of one who had laughed and smiled through life. He wore a loose tunic with it's sleeves rolled up at the elbows, covered by a large apron, and Niphrediel noticed before long that the most of his head was bald while what hair remained was mostly white. Yet, within his giant limbs, Niphrediel saw strength and capability. He still had an amazing punch. 

"Why, I could kiss you child!" he declared gleefully, putting down the tea towel and rinsed jug to lean over the bar, grip the sides of Sarilya's face and plant a kiss upon her forehead and each cheek. His rosy cheeks glowed as he shook his head at Sarilya once he had pried his mouth from her second cheek and began to prepare their drinks in front of them. 

"How was your trip to Dol Amroth?" Sarilya asked, jumping onto one of the stools, and motioning for Niphrediel to do the same. As if her question was a rhetorical one, Sarilya spoke on. "Fat Pa, this is my friend Niph-you know what, who I was telling you about," Sarilya motioned to Niphrediel casually, giving Fat Pa an oh-so scandalous wink. 

"Ooh," replied Fat Pa, giving Niphrediel a good ol' study as he gave them both their pints of ale. "A pleasure to have ye here, m'lady, I hope ye enjoy yer' brew." He then answered Sarilya. "The trip was a fine one, lassy— I brought back many drums of their finest ales too. Them Dol Amroth keepers beware now that I have what makes them think they are so much better then us Stone City taverns!" 

Niphrediel smiled widely at the man, her hands closing around the cold glass with ease. She turned towards Sarilya beside her as she planted a couple of silver coins upon the tabletop. 

"For your service, Fat Pa," Sarilya said, pointing her finger down at the pennies before them. "With a little something extra for you to buy yourself a new apron. You have been wearing one since when— since birth?" she quipped, and few happy old men beside her exploded in laughter. One slapped his knee as he hailed with chortles, while the other lowered his head and shook it. 

"No way!" Fat Pa ordered, throwing his tea towel wryly at one of the old men beside Sarilya who, Niphrediel supposed, were regulars. He reached out and clasped Sarilya gently by the jaw as he shook his head in a definite refusal. "Family does not pay family," he said tenderly before bellowing: "Both of you drink on the house!" and walking away to serve another. 

"Fine!" Sarilya yelled after Fat Pa, and she knew he listened even before he turned back and waved an arm at Sarilya to be quiet. "But I am buying you a new apron the next time you see me! You had better wash it, too." With a shake of her head, Sarilya slid the tiny pile of coins to the elderly men to her left. "Drink well, you darn old-timers," she jested with a grin. They both let out a trail of inaudible thanks, but Niphrediel supposed that the twinkles in their eyes were enough gratitude for Sarilya. Judging by their garb, Niphrediel guessed they made that same amount of coins through a half a day of labour. 

"That was decent of you," Niphrediel told Sarilya once she had turned back around, taking a sip of her sweet ale. After their little run to the tavern, Niphrediel noticed she was quite parched— so she let herself take a long gulp of the brew before peeling her lips away from the pint's tip. 

Sarilya shrugged her shoulders, leaning against the bar-top. "No use me having those coins if I brought them especially for ale," she said simply. "What, with big ol' Fat Pa there demanding we drink for free." She appeared to realise then that Niphrediel was still clueless about the connection she had with him. "He is Aradras's father," she told her. "Though it is hard to tell most of the time. He is so kind to me." 

Niphrediel was surprised at the revelation, studying Fat Pa for any resemblance to his handsome son. As if Sarilya sensed what Niphrediel was looking for, she smiled and said: "Obviously, Aradras is more like his mother in looks. Fat Pa says it himself. In strength and toughness though, he is more like is father. Believe it or not, but back in his day, Fat Pa was one mean bar-fighter. He would visit taverns just to pick a fight!" 

Although Niphrediel laughed, she was hardly surprised. "Speaking of Aradras, where is he?" she asked Sarilya, as the Lady-in-Waiting sculled back her giant pint with a mere gasp when she got to halfway. 

Sparring a few pants before preparing a reply, Sarilya eventually let out, "I think he is coming with the boys." Quickly after, Sarilya remembered that Niphrediel was unaware of most local terminology, and thus would have had no idea what _the boys _constituted. "I mean, with the local boys." 

Then, out of nowhere came Sarilya's next declaration: "But, no matter! By the time they arrive, we will be happily intoxicated and dancing like madwomen. Now… one, two, three, scull!" 

And that was that. Fat Pa poured, Niphrediel and Sarilya drank. Sarilya decided to make a game of it, by trying every drink on the menu regardless of wether how sour, sweet, dull and strong of taste it was. While Sarilya's favourite was the exceptionally sweet pint, which she finished in less than ten seconds, Niphrediel favoured the more sour-tinted brew. Before long, they were running around like children— laughing, squealing and carrying on in play. 

"Drum, drum, drum!" Sarilya ordered the musician who pattered on the small drum on his lap, who laughed openly with a simple nod and did as she asked. A few people were dancing already, but even they, eventually, came to surround Sarilya as she danced; her skirt pulled to her shins so that her feet could more with ease. As one man began to clap, and then another, Niphrediel, who sat on the outskirts, let out a cheer and began to clap too. To both the drum of the musician and the beating of slapping palms, Sarilya stamped her feet bounced in circles; her waist turning in obvious but non-appetising rotations. 

It was a dance of innocent and fun girlhood— not the seducing womanhood. And Sarilya portrayed it nicely, til she came to a stop, though while still dancing on the spot; her hands in waving-motions for Niphrediel to get up from her stool and come to her. 

Hiccuping after taking the last scull from her latest pint, Niphrediel settled her empty glass down on a tabletop when she saw Sarilya motioning for her. "No, no, no," she pleaded tiredly with an exasperated expression as Sarilya leaned forward and took her arm. The people, young and old, who had gathered around Sarilya let out bellows of applause and cheers of encouragement as Sarilya pulled Niphrediel to her feet and got her to dance with her. 

Sarilya let out a long trail of laughter as she clasped Niphrediel's hands and swung them around, her feet leading Niphrediel's as they skipped and pointed and jumped. As the musicians began to get bolder and faster in their beat, the girls sped up and did their very best to keep up. At first, it was simple, and all Niphrediel noticed was that Sarilya was spinning them around a little faster— then her grip on Sarilya's tightened and panted excitedly between each jump that would take them that much more around in a perfect circle, and she could not focus on a passing face except Sarilya's: which looked back at her with sparkling eyes, flushed cheeks and a broad smile. 

And then, they spun out! Sarilya's had lost their grip on Niphrediel's and they both went tumbling back from their own speed. Though it was the end of the game, those who watched seemed to find it worth of cheering, applause and laughter. 

Sarilya was caught by one of the middle-aged bar wenches, whom she declared her 'handsome rescuer' and batted her eyelashes wryly as she handed her unused hanky to her as her 'favour' and 'token of gratitude'. The bar wench shook her head with a laughing expression as Sarilya kissed her on the cheek, and jokingly pushed her away soon after. 

Niphrediel's landing was a little nicer. While she did fall into someone, it was not with the same force as Sarilya, although her back did slap into them and they had to keep her steady by hooking their arms beneath hers to prevent her from falling onto the ground. Niphrediel's face was upturned, bright and skin lightly gleaming by both sweat and spilt ale. 

"Sarilya!" she let out, still in the clutches of her rescuer. Sarilya pointed her finger at Niphrediel and shook her head, laughing loudly before noticing Aradras standing by. He, surrounded by a laughing group of other young men who undoubtedly made up what was called _the boys_, stood with one arm draped over his chest, and his spare hand half upon his chin and his mouth— his mouth that was arched in an incredulous smile. 

Sarilya looked back at him, and obvious recognised his look of disbelief since she held out her arms as if she had no idea what she had done to deserve it. "What?" she asked him, slowly moving closer to him with a wide smile. "What??" Niphrediel could not hear what Sarilya said next, since the musicians started up again, before draping her arms over Aradras's shoulders and kissing him. _The boys _groaned and send each other wry grins and eye-rolls whilst sipping from their own pints. 

Glancing at Aradras and Sarilya, Niphrediel was struck with sudden envy. At the both of them. 

Niphrediel then quickly picked herself from a state of half-crouching, half-being carried. She gathered herself up to her feet and felt the strong but lean arms remove from beneath the hook beneath each of her arms, letting out a few more chuckles of her own before turning around to thank her catcher. "Thank you!" she had already said, before she was properly facing the man who had been so lucky as to catch her. 

Legolas's eyebrows were raised, brushing against the hem of the bandana he wore upon his head that covered his airs. The rest of his hair was tied at the back of his head with a thong, and he had thrown on a black Gondorian-tailored cloak over his elven tunic to make himself seem all the more inconspicuous. He did not appear to be overly pleased at what he saw, or perhaps Niphrediel just assumed so. 

She squirmed a little under his gaze, her hands letting go of her skirt and making sure the shoulders of her gown had not dropped down and that her hair remained in place. "Legolas," she said eventually, forcing herself to look him in the eye as she fought quickly to catch what breath she had lost when she had been dancing. 

"Niphrediel," Legolas responded with a more monotonous intonation, his hands folding into each other against the flat of his stomach. "Having fun?" He did not speak with venom, but the sound of his voice made Niphrediel frown. 

"Yes, I am," she replied honestly, leaning in a fraction so that she would not have to yell over the loud-talking people around her. "What are you doing here?" 

Legolas shrugged his shoulders then, but looked a little less impartial than he did before; tilting his head a little to his left. "Arwen noticed you were not around when the evening had ended," he said in a matter-of-factly manner, before his face exploded in a smile that could murder a rainbow. "Well, that and I heard you two whispering. I am an elf, you know— insulting our ways of carousing? How rude." 

Being faced then with the brute of Legolas's humour, Niphrediel knew she was not going to get into any sort of 'trouble', even though she would find it very unfair is she did— she was not a child to be barricaded in the very city she has practically been forced to call home. Well… perhaps not _forced _but something like that, surely. Persuaded, perhaps. 

Niphrediel found her own mouth spreading in a wide grin in response, and she patted Legolas on the shoulder. "Well then, get a few more pints of ale into you, elfling," she declared, although made sure to murmur the name-calling part in case someone were to hear. Not that it would be so awful is someone would. "So you can be happy like me." 

"You are not happy," Legolas remarked with a low chuckle, looking Niphrediel over with his casual gaze. "You are intoxicated." 

"Hey," Niphrediel said, taking an awkward step backwards with her arms outstretched. "Same thing, laddie." Before she banged into the dancing couple behind her, Legolas pulled her in by the arm before speaking again. 

"Besides," he went on to say. "It takes more then what I imagine this tavern has to offer to get me intoxicated." 

"Why is that?" Niphrediel asked him, unable to keep her feet still. 

Legolas gave an idle glance to Fat Pa and a few of the bar-wenches at the bar. "Well, unless they were able to give me a drum of ale to be drank by none other then myself, it will likely have no effect whatsoever on me," Legolas looked back down on Niphrediel with raised brows. "Elven tolerance for alcohol," he said pointedly. "Keeping elves sober since the First Age!" 

"Is Elanor here?" Niphrediel asked suddenly, rising onto her tiptoes so that she could look out over the tavern over Legolas's shoulder. 

"Yes," Legolas replied, an eyebrow quirked. "I left her outside after I ripped off her sleeve and tied it around my head." 

With narrowed, incredulous eyes— Niphrediel slowly brought her gaze up to the bandana on Legolas's head, before the elf gave her a soft shove to her shoulder. "Of course she is not here," he said. "What, do you believe we are joined at the hip or something of that nature, Niphrediel?" 

Niphrediel disliked the elf's nonchalance— the way he reacted as if there was absolutely no evidence that she had to assume that there was a possibility that, just perhaps, Elanor was there. "Well, if the shoe fits, Legolas," she retorted calmly, before turning and making her way to Sarilya who was partaking in another gulp of ale as Fat Pa and Aradras conversed on the other side of the bar. Aradras must have decided to help his father out with serving the ale after noticing the large populace of the tavern. 

"Niphrediel!" Legolas moaned after her with a heavy sigh, and Niphrediel looked back at him with an exasperated look. She felt her frustration and anger for him die away, even before she tripped and began to slide backwards after her slippers slid against a puddle of spilt ale. 

With a yelp, Niphrediel fell unceremoniously onto her behind with a slap from the floor. 

"Hey!!" squealed a surprised Sarilya, who jumped quickly from her stool and rounding Niphrediel. She bent down behind her and hooked her arms around Niphrediel's stomach and urged her upwards, laughing all the while. "You drunkard!" she found Niphrediel's fall a little too funny for a sober mind— as did Niphrediel, who joined her in a long fit of giggles. 

"I am not a drunkard!" Niphrediel protested once she was hauled to her, turning around to face Sarilya who still kept a sisterly hold of her arm. A sparkle of playfulness became alit in Niphrediel's eyes then, as she and Sarilya shared a long moment of silent consideration of each other's gazes. "Sarilya," she began. 

"Yes?" Sarilya replied. 

"Lets go swimming!" 

Legolas brought his hand over his brow as he looked from one mortal girl to the other. He somehow knew Niphrediel was going to bring up the glade, and the waterfall they had come across some time before, and he was hardly relieved from it. 

"Oooh, swimming!" Sarilya's face brightened at the thought— her approval of the idea so blatant then that she did not need to speak on and say yes. She bounced on her feet, like a hound waiting for its owner to let go of their bone. "Aradras!" she hollered, looking over her shoulder to the young man pouring a happy patron a pint. 

"What is it, Sarilya?" Aradras replied mechanically, as if it were all routine, his eyes unmoving from his work. 

There was no hesitation. "Lets go for a swim," was what Sarilya said next, although it sounded more an order then a request. It did not seem to bother Aradras much. 

"Swim?" Aradras did not seem very enthusiastic. "I cannot, I think I am going to have to stay with pa and help out tonight. But where would you swim anyway?" 

Sarilya appeared to consider that question most soberly, and did not seem bothered that Aradras could not attend. She fixed a perplexed gaze on Niphrediel. "Indeed, where?" 

"A secret place," Niphrediel replied smartly, loud enough for Aradras to hear. It seemed to be enough for him to accept the invitation, and Niphrediel twirled happily on her feet to face Legolas again— as he stood tall and oblivious to the chatter around him, his eyes unwandering and unimpressed. He seemed to plead with her not to be silly, and go back to the citadel, all without a single word leaving his mouth. 

Niphrediel took a step toward him with slumped shoulders, as if his disapproval meant that it was not possible for her to take Sarilya and Aradras out. "Oh, come on, Legolas," she begged, moving an inch closer moment by moment so that he could have a better view of her heartbroken façade. "Just a bit of fun, that is all I ask of you." 

"You will fall and bang your head on a rock before we even get there!" Legolas argued, pulling his arms into a tighter cross over his chest. "And then word will spread to… you-know-who's ears that you were parading around like a drunkard in the company of none other but myself, and before you know it— Legolas is an elleth." His brow was furrowed in such a dark, serious frown; Niphrediel could not hold back laughter. The very tips of his mouth arched downwards, towards the floor. 

With a wide, upward-arching lips, Niphrediel skipped merrily over to Legolas and placed her hands on either side of his face. With her thumbs pressed against his cheeks, she pulled his skin upwards into an artificial smile. She did it all with such ease, she blessed the pints of ale she had drank during the night. Every last one. She felt like it was normal between them— as if her episode with Sirion that night had not happened. She felt free, and she would make sure the feeling lasted. 

She knew she was going to win the moment his eyes softened and averted from hers. She removed her hands as he began to speak, quietly in a murmur. "You _will _be the death of me," he sighed, his eyes falling to the floor as if he had done something wrong. He seemed to remember something suddenly, and glanced sideways to Sarilya, "Wait… I spoke to your father tonight. He said you were to send him three letters before luncheon tomorrow stating why you had not been able to attend some family function. Do you think its wise to play with that Lord's temper? I have been told it's like an inferno." 

Sarilya slapped herself on the forehead with a swift and careless fling of her hand. Her drunken jolliness dissolved in a matter of seconds after Legolas spoke of her father, and the rosiness of her cheeks was suddenly gone. "Oh no, you are right," she said, turning her gaze to Niphrediel with both an apologetic and frightened visage. "Oh, in the name of Eru, I have to finish those," she told her, already giving her a hug in farewell. "Go anyway— would you like me to stay in your suite tonight or run along to my own." 

"Your choice," mumbled an unhappy Niphrediel as she let Sarilya give her a hug without embracing back. She was too displeased to do so. 

"Very well then," Sarilya responded with a nod, her intonation lacking its previous dullness that set in after her fourth pint. "I will stay in your chamber til' you sneak back in though, it will be too suspicious if that chamber is completely empty all night. Be quick," Sarilya moved in to give Niphrediel another, but shorter embrace. "Be _careful_." 

"Are we still going to go?" Legolas asked Niphrediel once Sarilya released her. 

Niphrediel almost wanted to slap him across the face. "Of course we are!" 

_Be careful? _Niphrediel thought. _Ha!_

"Hurry up and jump!" Legolas shouted from the grassy patch, after climbing back out of the water. The water was deep and dark, but with Legolas's eyesight he assured Niphrediel that there was not anything unsettling swimming around there. Although he did see one or two tiny little 'creatures' crawling around the sand at the bottom, he noted the way they scattered when he threw a rock in, and decided not to tell Niphrediel of their existence. 

They had been at the waterfall propped up against the backside of Mindolluin for at least an hour, and Niphrediel still had not jumped into the water. And, with a stroke of genius, the girl decided to climb up the water to its uppermost peak and jump down like a champion. At the time, when her feet were upon solid ground, Niphrediel eluded confidence and was completely certain that she _was _going to jump… but once she started to get higher and higher, the bravado began to waver. 

"Be quiet!" she screeched back, huddled over herself like a scared cat, looking out over the edge of the waterfall as if she was gazing into an inevitable doom. She wore her underdress and her hair was still kept up— how the ribbons had not come out was completely beyond her. She appeared to be concentrating on the pool beyond, as if it were an equation that had to be solved. _Fool_, she heard a voice scream inside her head. 

Legolas swept his hair back and shook his head. Niphrediel had pushed him in straight after he had taken off his cloak, so he stood in an ensemble of soaked trousers and boots, and a once-fine tunic, but did not appear bothered about it. "Before I die of old age, please?" he requested boldly, a cheeky smile upon his face. Though he did not want to admit it, he had been happy Niphrediel had talked him into going. It was mere luck that both times she had forced him to take her places Aragorn would have frowned upon; it had been an enjoyable time for him as well. 

"Oh, very funny, Legolas," Niphrediel nearly spat, clearly unimpressed with Legolas's quip (which made it all the more better to him). And, as if she had made her last effort, Niphrediel began to climb down. 

Legolas let out a low cheer and began to dryly applause. "Oh, what is it, Princess? Do you think the pressure from landing on the water would chip a nail?" Legolas wanted to pat himself on the pat for that one! 

"I will chip a nail on your hide, Legolas," Niphrediel threatened as she began to quickly jump down from one rock onto another, like a vast stair. "Prince or no." 

"I would like to see you try, lass," was Legolas's impish response. "But I believe all the skirts you have been wearing since you have arrived in Gondor have made you a little, say, priggish." 

"_What?_" Niphrediel exclaimed in disbelief as she jumped onto the grassy floor, still dry, still clean. Her eyes were wide and incredulous, and her mouth afar in shock. "What did you call me??" She readied to charge, the muscles in her body already tensing. 

"Priggish," Legolas replied casually, his chin inching a fraction higher. He looked so proud of himself, with a smug grin smacked upon his face. "P.R.I.G.G.I.S.H.," he taunted her. "Priggish!" 

Niphrediel charged! She bolted towards Legolas like a strike of lightning, jumping out at him before she was within arms-reach. He seemed to be ready for her though, for he caught her a little too easily— but was a little unprepared for handling her weight as well his balance, for he slipped backwards onto his own back and he and her began to unceremoniously wrestle. He was too preoccupied with protecting his hair from the handful of dirt and grass Niphrediel can snatched from the hearth, to notice how hard he truly landed upon the ground. 

Trying to wriggle her arms out of the tight clasps Legolas had on her wrists, Niphrediel was struck by surprise when he managed to lash out at her side for a quick tickle— which caught her off guard for a mere blink of an eye but gave him enough time to turn them both, so that he had the advantage of being higher. With elvish reflexes, of course Legolas had no problem with catching Niphrediel's limbs before they neared his face a little too close. But keeping grip became a little difficult. Although she lashed out, and he had a little trouble getting reasonable holds of her arms— he eventually did. 

"I wiiiin, you priggish princess," Legolas declared with pride as he sat above Niphrediel, his hands gripping her forearms that crossed over her chest in a solid grip. Although Niphrediel tried to release herself from moving her entire body from side to side, it did not work. 

"Not fair," Niphrediel muttered in frustration. "You are a male, you have immediate advantages!" 

"_You_ charged at _me_," Legolas told her, obvious choosing to disagree that his victory was anything less than that. "You had the element of surprise, which makes it somewhat even." 

Although Niphrediel tried not to think about it, she felt so relieved. They had played the entire time they had arrived at the waterfall, and she had not felt uncomfortable, uncertain or embarrassed _once. _Even as she pressed her down upon the grassy floor, looking down on her with a wide smile— she felt nothing that she should not have. Nothing _wrong _or _bad. _She was free! Niphrediel began to have great hope that her night with Sirion meant absolutely nothing. It was her own imagination; she and Legolas were _fine_. 

"I did not!" Niphrediel defended herself, before bucking Legolas from her with a raised knee. She turned quickly on the grass and jumped up into a sprint, hoping to make a run for the trees. But she was not fast enough. An arm looped around her waist and, while Niphrediel could see her legs still moving beneath her kicking skirt, she knew her slippered feet were no longer treading upon ground. 

"No!" she cried, her hands flying over Legolas's to pry it away as she felt him rise and fall with each great footstep that brought her closer to the pool. While she had had every intention of having a dive into it, at the very least, being faced with no choice suddenly made Niphrediel fight back against being thrown in. But she could not. She squealed and made sounds alike to a cry in desperation, though no tears fell. She tried to turn her head so that she could look Legolas in the eye, but she could not twist around enough to see his a-cursed mouth that let out a loud cackle before she was thrown into the water. 

_She was back in the water again. Suspended and still, her arms outstretched and her legs slightly parted. She looked around the blue liquid prison, each whip of her head seeming so slow and tiring all at the same time. Niphrediel's hands pulled into a clench as she eventually came to look up and the sharp light that shone beyond the water level._

_Not again. Oh no, not again._

_The light beyond the water danced, and as Niphrediel looked at it more and more, she felt herself become angry. Not merely angry, but enraged._

Come and get me then, you coward_**, **she thought— she knew where the dream was going. She knew what was going to happen. She knew she could not do a damned thing to stop it, or defend herself from it. Niphrediel had tried with all her might the first time and nothing had come from that. _

_As tough as her thoughts might have made her out to be, Niphrediel was still terrified. _

Wake up,_ she thought. _Niphrediel, wake up. This is a dream. You are dreaming. Wake up. 

_Niphrediel closed her eyes and pleaded with the darkness there to release her to natural light. Sunshine. Moonlight. Anything but the endless blue that greeted her when she eventually pried her eyelids back once again._

_And then came the jolt, and a flash of memory filled the void— as if she was reliving her last nightmare once again._

_Suddenly it was, that a loud sound shock Niphrediel's eardrums to their very core; a sound that made it seem as if the very earth was breaking. Niphrediel's eyes widened in astonishment as she watched the blue lights join to form a face, dark, ugly, and sinister. A pair—large, dark and blue— plundered through the surface of the water, so fast that Niphrediel's heavy limbs could not possibly fend them off once Niphrediel realised exactly what they were after… her neck. _

_Niphrediel tried to move, but her strength was completely torn from her. She clasped the wrists of the unholy being as it locked around her neck, and tried to fight them in every way she could possibly think of. As those hairy, blood-dirtied hands locked around her neck and pressed down— Niphrediel felt the monster press down and could feel the water brushing up against her back and hair as she was forced down._

_As Niphrediel banged once more against the bottom, she squirmed with great rebellion. She refused to live the nightmare over again. She clamped her hands against the pair that held her neck in its undying embrace and fought with what strength the water did not rob from her. _Not again, _she prayed, the voice echoing through her very mind so very determined— or desperate._

**_Not again!!_**

_Niphrediel knew she was heard, as her eyes glared up at the light beyond the water with enough venom to murder a snake. She stopped fighting, but shook her head— she was not going to go through it again._

_Angered by her rebellion, the hands drew her painfully up from the water's floor by the neck. Niphrediel tried to ignore the click, but whimpered despite her effort to keep some sort of strong visage. And then, with all the amazing and inhumane brute and strength that it possessed, the hands brought her back down toward the floor with enough force to crush a cow. Niphrediel knew what was happening before she felt the water gush upwards from every part of her body._

_**Bang**._

Niphrediel broke through the water-surface with a gasp, her entire body tingling with tiny little chills. The water was cool, so cool that Niphrediel imagined it would not be completely wrong to think that some might even call it _freezing_. But, with the warm air of the night, and Niphrediel's body's higher-temperature; she thought it not unpleasant in the least. 

_What, in the name of all that is holy, made me remember that dream like that? _Pushing aside conscience, Niphrediel's jaw locked defiantly, and she resisted thinking about it. The stupid vision had no right disturbing her most casual conversion she had been able to have with Legolas in a few days. She robbed it of such a power. 

But with a few pants, she used symmetrical, outward strokes of her arms to direct her back to the rocky edge. She ignored the severe aching around the flesh of her neck by speaking, even when she had an unexpected thrash of thunder to compete with. "You tyrant," she said, pulled her body up onto the edge and rising to her feet. 

She was soaked to the bone, her hair half-in and half-out of the plated spiral on the back of her head. The most of it fell down her back with the sticky fabric of her underdress, which she quickly separated from her skin straight after she resurfaced. 

Her face must have looked miserable as she looked down and brushed her skirt down. The thunder began to boom with a little more confidence as a dripping hand, which did not belong to Niphrediel, grasped her face by the chin and tilted it upwards. 

"Smile," Legolas nagged when Niphrediel's face looked directly up to him. "Smile like you mean it." 

With a slow hesitance, Niphrediel did as the elf asked. The tips of her mouth drew her lips apart, as it was meant to, and with some strain. Her top lip appeared thinner that way, in comparison to her fuller bottom lip— and her white teeth were set pleasantly between them both. Had her eyes displayed mirth instead of amusement and curiosity, her smile would have been a fine one. Finer, anyway. 

"You made me feel like a child," he told her, the same words he had given her in Lothlorien. 

Niphrediel was unsure with how to respond, so she thought it best to say what she had told him once before: "You… are a child." 

Legolas released Niphrediel's chin with a proud flick of his hand. "Better," he spoke of her smile, before he looked up to the unhappy sky— which, instead of being hued in a great, rich black, was actually a mixture of blue and grey in pre-dawn delight. Niphrediel had not realised how long her evening had been— in a couple hours, the sun would rise! But, apparently, not before the rain would begin to fall. 

And then it did. 

"We had best be going now," Legolas said, already gathering up his cloak from a nearby rock. "Get your overdress." 

Niphrediel simply nodded before running to one of the trees to her far left, where she had hooked her overdress over a branch. She put it on quickly, and though she did not ask for assistance; Legolas helped her with the laces at the back. Though both of their skins glimmered in a telltale fashion that they had, indeed, been swimming or fallen victims to a moving wall of water, the rain that began to pour like tears from the heavens would give them both a liable excuse for their clothing's disarray. 

"Done!" she said, before he grabbed her hand. With Legolas in the lead, he and Niphrediel raced through the trees— laughing, tripping (or at least, from Niphrediel), and playing around in general. Although it was mellow things as they dodged the trees, once they reached the paddocks— they had free reign to do whatever they wanted. 

Niphrediel jumped onto Legolas's back and slowed him down (somewhat) by bending her legs and taking her feet off the ground. Despite himself, Legolas laughed loudly and twisted left and right in attempts to get her off. They unsteadied him instead, and Niphrediel let out a mixture of a cheer and a scream as Legolas plummeted into a pile of mud— service of the hearty rain. 

He landed on his side, and let out both laughter and a groan in disgust. A strange mixture. Initially, his eyes were closed as he heard the 'squash' as he slapped into the mud, but when they opened— and were fixed on Niphrediel who, at the last minute let go and was able to remain standing and out of the mud, with deadly accuracy. His entire side was covered in mud, from the collar of his tunic to the side of his boot. Niphrediel was going to pay. 

"Ooooh, no!" Although Niphrediel knew she was smiling at her doom, she could not keep herself from giggling. For a long moment, they simply looked at each other— one daring the other to move so that they could run, or give chase. Niphrediel decided to go first, and began to run; squealing like a child even before her punishment landed upon her. 

Gathering a handful of the reasonable running mud, Legolas got up and sprinted straight after her. It was not hard to catch up to her, for not only was he an elf; but Niphrediel struggled with two layers of long skirts! When Niphrediel came into arms reach— Legolas grabbed the back of her collar and pulled her back. So slippery was the ground that his simple tug brought Niphrediel falling flat onto her behind on the dirty floor. He pulled her back all the more, leaning over her from behind in a half-crouch, so that he could see her face screwed up in a whimper. 

"Legolas!" Niphrediel cried, looking up at him. "No!" 

But Legolas was too quick. Half-way through her 'no', Legolas shoved his handful of mud down the back of her gown— which made her back straighten and mouth part in a short scream. He cleaned the rest of the must from his hand by wiping it on Niphrediel's forehead, cheeks and chin; giving her rather handsome stripes on each place. 

As if Legolas was going to attack her again, once he let her go— Niphrediel was up and running again. Like a hungry wolf, Legolas thought it swell to be a bully and punish her one last time; so he chased her again and tripped her gently by reaching throwing her into a soft patch of grass and mud. 

With a loud squash, Niphrediel landed with a feigned whimper on the patch— and though Legolas was proud of himself and his victory, he thought that since she was, by then, as filthy (if not a little more) then he was, it was fair for him to help her up. 

"Come along, then," he said, walking around so that he stood in front of her as she fought to release her elbow from the clutched of the swallowing mud. He held out his hands to her, and was greeted with laughter— at what, he did not know… but he simply assumed it was her mighty fall— before his palms came into contact with hers. Although he did not know why, Legolas laughed too, and found he could not stop himself. He shook his head pitifully as he pulled Niphrediel up, and steadied her with a hand against her waist should her slippers slide against the slippery surface of the mud and drowning grass once more. 

They laughed long, and when Niphrediel looked up to see all the mud that covered the most of Legolas's left side— her eyes glimmered with tears and her cheeks turned pink. But, as funny as he looked, Niphrediel's laughter stopped mid-air once her eyes trailed upwards and set themselves on his face. 

She could feel a black whole swallow the freedom she had thought she had felt all through her time with him that night. The faith she had that she would never feel uncomfortable or think of things forbidden about her dear friend came crashing down like a pile of bricks as she found herself admiring the pure and unmatchable beauty that was positioned so close to her that she could _feel _cold breath blowing subtly against her face. 

_Oh no,_ she thought as she felt Legolas stiffen and saw his smile dwindle. She looked at the way his hair fell in slick parts when it was drenched with water, still tidy and beautiful— and the way his eyes grew suddenly sombre when he realised that she was no longer laughing. The studied a raindrop that landed upon his forehead with a splat that, somehow, she could hear inside her head like the beat of an earthquake. The raindrop rolled down, sliding down the slope of his cheeks, beside his straight, elegant nose… before trailing down to his bottom lip. 

Before she knew what she was doing, Niphrediel found herself following the raindrop by leaning too quickly for her to pull back. As her heart thumbed in the cavern that was her chest, Niphrediel felt her body react with sudden life— as if it was not her mind or logic, but her body that demanded something that she knew in her heart that she _should not _have. 

Niphrediel pressed her lips against Legolas's without enough hesitation to breathe first. She felt her blood rush with adrenaline as her mouth locked itself against his— like a fungus to a tree. Like a blood-sucking bat, Niphrediel drew from Legolas, her lips moving against his. While her hands, clenched at her side, seemed to know before her very conscience kicked in, that what she was doing was wrong— every other part of Niphrediel's body and soul screamed out yes. 

_Good_ was a word incapable of describing what she felt. His lips were like satin, and Niphrediel's own lips could feel every single detail of it. She tilted her head to the side, and felt herself move an inch closer so that her own chest touched his. She could taste the raindrop she had been so envious of as she kissed him— the moisture providing a base that easily swerved against her mouth. 

But then Niphrediel's eyes bolted open, and she realised what she was doing. And then, almost worst of all— she realised that while she had been joyously satisfying herself… Legolas's own mouth had not moved once. He had not moved backwards, he had not kissed her back…. Legolas had not responded at all. 

As if the arm of her conscience reached out and push her, Niphrediel leaped backwards. Her skin was pale, her eyes wide, and mouth parted in horror. _No_, she prayed. _Oh no, no, no, no, oh please no._ Her hand came to cup her mouth as she took one step backwards and then another. She waited for Legolas to speak, yet hoped in the name of Eru that he would not say anything. 

Legolas just stood there— his features still, mouth unmoving. Niphrediel searched his expression rapidly through unblinking, tear-gathering eyes, and could feel the very tissue of her heartburn as she discovered that he looked as horrified and shaken as she did. She suddenly did wish him so speak, or say something that could give her some suggestion as to how much of a forsaken fool she was. 

What had she done? 

Or perhaps Niphrediel was a liar, for she blurted something out before Legolas had the chance to speak. "I-I-I," she stammered, tears falling down her face freely. "Legolas… I am so sorry," she whimpered, before turning around and running away, as if for dear life. Niphrediel did not care that she could trip to her knees more times than she would have hoped for— she just wanted to escape.She wanted to escape what she had done, and the condemning eyes of an elf that she would be forever shameful to call her friend. 

Crying, whimpering and gasping… Niphrediel ran all the way to the King's House. 

She did not stop til she burst through the door of her bedchamber and locked it behind her. 

She did not stop til she fell into a soaked, mud-drenched heap on the floor against the wall. 

She did not stop til she pressed her face against Sarilya's lap, lying upon the floor in her raggedy gowns, and cried. 

What had she done? 

  


* * *

**Hope you liked it! I'm alive!!! ;) Or… at least, semi-alive.**   
Think I got it right??? Hrm. I'm not sure. I rushed it tonight, it's 2:34 PM. I had meeeega-problems with the kiss. I suck.   


R/R!!!!! 


	17. The Story With Me! Note from Spirit Andu...

**The Story With Me?**

Well. Here we go. As you all can tell, I, the writer, haven't made a post to this story in a very, very, very long time. And, although there are a couple people who may have expected an entry when this showed up as having a chapter added, this is yet another of the disappointments I have unintentionally shoved your way.

Why isn't this story bloody-well finished? Why have the chapters stopped coming?

Well, people, about… hmmm… a year ago I was in the middle of completing the second to last chapter of the entire thing— and poof!— my hard-drive completely crashed on me. As far as being computer-oriented, all I really know what to do is to install new programs, use Word and MSN, and that's about it— so I don't actually know what was wrong with it, even though I had it explained to me by the guys at the repair shop. Anyway. The problem was fatal (as fatal as it can come to a box of microchips) and everything on my comp was complete toast.

I really apologise for not making a post like this sooner, but I've only just hooked myself up with my own PC again and have got stuff going again. The most internet access I've had has been from Internet Cafes, and that has just been to check my email. Hopefully now things will change and I'll somewhere get my butt into gear to rewrite all my bloody lost chapters. That's a bit of a mission I've been putting off but I really, seriously don't want to leave all of this unfinished. I don't want to mess it up.

To all of you guys who have been waiting on me all this time… man, guys, I'm really sorry. I'll get my ass working eventually, I promise. But now, at least, you all know why I haven't been around.

Sincerest apologies and thanks for all of ya'll reading this,

Ty, A.K.A. _Spirit Anduril_


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